


meant for me

by graydar



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Discussions of sexuality, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, References to Depression, Soulmate AU, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graydar/pseuds/graydar
Summary: Dan doesn’t believe in soulmates. Phil believes in everything. Dan is scared of everything. Phil is scared of Dan.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Original Female Character(s), Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 191
Kudos: 240





	1. Chapter 1

Phil doesn’t know what else to write. And the blank document in front of his face is mocking him. The cursor blinking. Blinking. Blinking. He can’t help but roll his eyes. He doesn’t have anything else to say. He’s written two good scripts and a sort-of-comic-book and now he’s done. His brain is empty. Words feel impossible right now. He should just go ahead and phone it in and apply for the opening in the Starbucks across the street. 

He’s being dramatic. He knows he is. But that’s what he’s best at so he can’t be bothered to stop. He shuts his laptop and leans back in his chair. Waking up early and actually sitting at his desk felt like the way to start the day off well, to get those writing-juices flowing. But now all he wants to do is stare out the window at the street below. 

It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day for England and the start of spring has brought little sparrows to the trees planted on the sidewalk three floors below by the road outside his flat. A man in biker shorts and a rainbow helmet rides by. An old couple passes while walking a small weiner dog. They’re holding hands. They’re wearing matching bucket hats. Phil smiles. It’s love that’s got his brain all mushy and thoughts all scrambled. It’s not like it sounds, not in the way he’d like it to. He’s not distracted by love, more so the absence of it. His stomach twists. He feels queasy. Maybe it’s the green protein drink he’d choked down this morning. Maybe it’s the loneliness. 

Could be both. Doesn’t change anything.

It’s really Bryony’s fault for making him watch all those rom-coms the night before. And it’s Martyn’s fault for constantly gushing at him about his wonderland of a love life. It’s his parent’s fault for being so  _ perfect  _ and so  _ in love _ all the time. It’s the world’s fault… for making him an unlovable creature with an alien-shaped skull and legs too long for his body and a beak for a nose. 

But mostly, it’s Jimmy’s fault for texting him in the late hours of the night, asking a simple question that has Phil wondering, wondering, wondering. 

_ Do you believe in soulmates?  _

It’s stupid for Jimmy to even ask. He should know that of course Phil believes in soulmates. Phil believes in everything. From Santa Claus to tarot cards to the conspiracy theory about Avril Lavigne and her clones. 

Phil believes in everything. Despite feeling ugly and awkward, he believes he has a soulmate. Somewhere out there in the world. Waiting for him. Someone who will love him and all his insecurities. Someone he’ll equally love back. 

Jimmy thinks he’s met his soulmate. Finally after all these years of searching and going home with the wrong guys. Getting invested and being disappointed over and over again. 

Phil responded to Jimmy that morning:  _ I’m happy for you mate.  _ And tried not to be bitter. 

It is a lot easier said than done. 

He thinks about ringing his mum. She’d know what to say. She’d said it to him hundreds of times before.  _ You’ll find the one, Phil. You’ll know when it’s right. Be patient. Everything happens for a reason.  _

He picks up his phone, giving into the urge to vent all of his worries to his mum, who undoubtedly has better things to do. She has more of a life than him at this point. 

Before he’s able to get to her contact, he gets a text from Bryony. 

_ I know you’re not working so could you pleeease bring me a coffee? I’m dying and I need caffeine.  _

His phone dings again. 

_ I’m blaming you for keeping me out too late. And for buying fancy wine I have to drink.  _

And again. 

_ When was the last time you went outside? I’ll pay you back.  _

He smiles to himself and types out a reply. 

_ You’re mean. Be there in a bit.  _

She’s right, he hasn’t been outside in…. a while. Going for a coffee seems as good an excuse as any. He’s not getting any work done, his brain is still mushy. A walk might do him some good. 

*

The Starbucks across the street from his apartment is full-to-bursting of people. There’s a line almost to the door and all the tables are filled with arty-farty looking millennials. If Phil actually liked going outside, maybe he’d bring his laptop and pretend to work here a few days a week. But that way he couldn’t work while wearing pajamas, and that was one of the major pluses of working from home. 

He stands in the long line, playing a puzzle game on his phone and trying not to keep track of the minutes that pass in slow motion as the line barely moves an inch. It looks like the guy working the register is new or in-training. He has to confirm people’s orders at least three times and keeps dropping the plastic cups as he writes the customer’s names on them. 

That would be Phil, he thought, if he ever ended up switching to Plan B. He feels unsteady, wondering if he really won’t figure out what his next story will be. What if all the creativity in his brain has dried up? He feels so inadequate this morning, he doubts he could even write an Instagram caption worth anything. 

Phil always thought writer’s block was for people not cut out to be writers. Here he is, not just blocked but empty. 

It’s his turn to order. The boy behind the counter stumbles over Phil’s order twice and Phil can see him spell his name wrong. Phil feels a little bad for the kid. His hands are shaking and he looks a mess. He puts his change in the tip jar, just to be nice. It’s the least he can do, they’re both having bad days. 

Phil carefully cradles the two coffees in his arm as he tries to type out a text to Bry telling her he’s on his way with the gift of caffeine. He starts walking toward the door, phone still in hand, when everything starts to spin and then his hands are empty and his forehead’s been whacked against the corner of a table. 

Someone’s computer charger was stretched as far as it could go to the outlet on the wall and Phil, like the absolute failure he is, has tripped and stumbled forward, dropping his coffees onto a secluded table in the corner and banging his head as he fell to the ground. 

Someone mumbles, “Shit!” and Phil knows everyone in the shop is probably now staring his way. He looks at the floor beneath him, counts to seven, and then looks up. 

And his heart stops. 

The guy he’d flung his coffees on is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s also covered in burning hot coffee. He holds his t-shirt away from his body and surveys the damage. The papers covering the guy’s table are a complete mess of ink and cappuccino, there’s coffee in the divots between the keys of his laptop, and he’s picked up Phil’s phone from the floor where it landed, the screen completely shattered. 

Phil says, “Oops.” Because of course he does. 

His brain is now more than mush, it’s melted. The fact that he is supposed to have the ability to think and speak coherently when someone this attractive exists, he honestly thinks is homophobic. That and the maybe-concussion he’s just sustained from the fall.

The guy looks at him, something like annoyance in his eyes, “ _ Oops? _ ” 

“I mean, I’m sorry! Really! I’m the clumsiest person in the world,” Phil says as he starts to stand up. 

“You fucking- Here,” he hands Phil his phone. “It’s fine.” 

“Thanks.” 

If their fingers touch as Phil takes his phone back, he notices. He definitely notices. 

And then he shakes his head, tries to snap himself out of it. This is not the time to start fantasizing about random guys in Starbucks. Especially ones that are probably pissed at him for ruining their laptop and burning them with hot coffee. 

Before Phil can think to say anything else, the newbie-Starbucks employee is there with a mop and coffee-stained rags and a refund for Phil. There’s also an employee who looks much older, probably the manager, asking the customer a few tables down to please unplug their laptop chord as it might be in the way of other customers. Obviously a little late for that now. 

They start to clean up the mess Phil made and the guy starts packing up his stuff, looking keen to get out of there as soon as possible. He shoves his laptop in his backpack and looks at the papers, trying to salvage anything that isn’t totally ruined. 

Phil’s stomach twists. He feels bad. The guy looks genuinely out of sorts. Phil doesn’t know what to say. 

“Hey,” he tries. “I’ll pay for that.” 

The guy looks up at Phil, surprised, “It’s not- these aren’t worth anything, mate. And it’s not your fault really.” 

“But your laptop..?” 

He shrugs, “I’ll just put it in some rice or something.” 

“I feel bad,” Phil says simply. 

The guy stops, staring at his shoes, “Don’t feel bad. It was shit anyway.” 

Phil doesn’t understand. It just makes him feel worse. 

“Listen, I’m kind of already having a bad day. Can I do something, anything, to make this up to you? It’ll make me feel better. I’m being selfish, really.” 

The guy stops frowning for half a second. 

“Anything?” 

“I’d offer to buy you a coffee, but-” 

“I’m all coffeed-out I think,” he says, gesturing to his shirt. 

“Right,” Phil tries a smile. It almost feels funny now. Almost. 

When the guy doesn’t move to say anything, he keeps going, “I’m Phil.” 

“Dan. Er, Daniel.” 

“Which is it?” 

“Are you a musician?” 

This catches Phil off guard for a second, “Uh, no?” 

His shoulders relax a little bit. “Okay, then. Dan. It’s Dan.” 

Phil wants to ask. He’s noisy by nature and this is just too much. He’s hot and possibly a musician and he’s staring at Phil like he’s waiting for something. 

Phil’s not great at letting all those bad, dark feelings in. He’s maintained this outward sense of positivity and cheerfulness his whole life. Dan looks… sad. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a permanent frown. And even though Phil’s head is pounding and he’s pretty annoyed that he just shattered his phone and he is quite possibly in the middle of a crisis about his career, he wants nothing more right now than to make Dan look less… sad. 

So he says, “Hi Dan. Nice to meet you. Fancy a new shirt?” 

* 

They walk to Topman so that Dan’s shirt can dry in the sun and because Phil says the weather is too nice to go underground. It’s a long walk and they’re mostly silent the way there which makes Phil feel itchy. 

They’ve both got long legs so the walk doesn’t take too long. Phil keeps trying to make conversation. Some things Dan actually has something to say about, others he just mumbles in response. 

“Corgi alert!” Phil whisper-shouts and points across the street. 

"A loaf,” Dan replies. 

“I want a dog so badly.” 

“So get one.” Dan says everything in one tone. It sounds slightly apathetic and know-it-all-ish, but looking at his face he seems sincere. Not like he doesn’t care. Just… detached. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not? You’re an adult. Want a dog? Get a fucking dog.” 

Phil shrugs, “My landlord won’t allow it. And I’d probably kill it.” 

“What the fuck? Are you a dog murderer?” 

“Not yet. Currently a houseplant murderer. But who knows, maybe I’ll be moving up in the world if I take your advice.” 

Dan puts up both his hands in surrender, “I will not be an accessory to your dog murder.”

“I’ve gotta learn how to take care of myself first before I can take care of another living thing, you know?” Phil says. 

He’s trying to get Dan to say something that’s actually about himself. So far from this walk Dan has learned that Phil loves horror movies, wants a dog, doesn’t know how his rights and lefts, and thinks the sky would look cool if it were purple. So far all Phil knows about Dan is that his name is Dan. And that he might be a musician. And that he’s far better at knowing how to walk to Topman from Starbucks than Phil. 

All Dan says in response is, “Mhm, yeah.” 

Phil’s about to give up. But then… 

“I’m more of a shiba inu man myself.” 

Phil laughs, “Isn’t that the doge dog?” He demonstrates, putting one hand over the other and tilting his head. 

Dan half-smiles, “That’s the one.” 

The Topman is less packed and Phil’s glad for it. There’s a lot less likely of a chance that he makes a fool of himself here. Still, he takes extra care to look where’s going. 

He watches Dan walk around the store, following a little farther behind him. Dan looks at each shirt along the wall for a few seconds and then moves on. If it were Phil, he’d probably have picked the first shirt he saw when he walked in and have been done with it. It had a peacock on it, he’s still considering buying it. 

Dan walks the whole length of the store silently and then starts on his path again. Phil catches up to him as Dan passes the peacock shirt. 

“Hey, if you don’t like anything here we could go somewhere else?” 

Dan looks up like he’s forgotten Phil was even there, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Phil feels himself blush, “Uhm….” 

“Sorry. Fuck, that’s not what I meant it to sound like. I mean, don’t you have work or something? You’re not gonna spend all day walking around shops with me. Honestly, I’ve had this shirt since I was 18, it was probably time to throw it out anyway,” Dan says, all in one breath. 

“I mean…” Phil hesitates. He wonders what Dan thinks of him. That he’s a loser for trying to do something nice for him. That he’s a stalker for following Dan around this long. “I don’t have to work. Like I said, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“Maybe you’re too nice, Phil,” he says it like he’s trying to get a rise out of Phil. Like he just wants to argue for the sake of arguing. 

He thinks for a second, and then, “Maybe nice is all I’m good at.” 

Dan picks a random shirt off the rack. It’s black and nothing like anything Phil would have chosen. Phil buys it and the peacock shirt, which Dan laughs at. 

They start walking back and Phil thinks they’ll probably part ways soon enough, but Dan’s apartment happens to be the same way as Phil’s. It makes sense, since they go to the same neighborhood Starbucks, Phil guesses. 

Phil talks less on the way back and Dan starts whistling. It sounds like the Zelda theme and Phil starts whistling along. 

Dan stops, “Mate. You can’t whistle.” 

“What? I totally can.” He whistles again, making a few whiny noises and blowing a lot of hot air. 

Dan laughs, like proper laughs. Phil smiles bigger than he has all day. 

“Well,” Phil says. “You’re pretty good. Are you some kind of professional whistler?” 

Dan smirks. Phil’s heart stutters. His brain screams at it to stop. 

“I, er- not really. But I am a musician.” 

Phil smiles and nods, keeping his silent victory to himself that he’s finally got a real Dan fact. 

“A musician? What kind? Are you a famous popstar I should know about?” Is this flirting? He’s never really done it properly before. He shouldn’t be flirting with Dan anyway. That’s not part of the random-acts-of-kindness-by-Phil package. 

Dan keeps smiling though, so it’s worth it. 

“Not a popstar. I play piano mostly.” 

“Hmm, cool,” Phil replies. Keeping it casual, playing it cool. As cool as he can awkwardly muster. 

“What about you? What do you do?” 

Phil’s stomach drops, “Oh, I write. Or I try to write. Hasn’t been a lot of that going on lately, but… that’s the job description.” 

Dan nods, “Cool. I tried to write poetry in high school. It sucked.” 

More Dan facts. Phil’s not sure what wall he broke or how he did it, but he’s glad he did. 

“I could never write poetry.” 

“What is it that you write then?” Dan starts taking slower steps. 

“I write whatever’s easiest. Like, screenplays. Wrote a couple of those. And I’ve got a comic about internet zombies that’s technically not published. My friend PJ, he did the art for it, kind of self published it. But that was more for fun than anything else. Before it was my real job,” Phil feels embarrassed that he doesn’t have anything else to show for his work. He shrugs, because it’s not a big deal,  _ he’s _ not a big deal. If Dan asks about the screenplays and if maybe he’s seen the movies, Phil might actually run away and hide. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t. He turns to the building they’ve arrived at and stops walking, “That’s cool. Internet zombies sound kind of badass. Maybe you can send me the link and I can read it sometime.” 

Phil loses all feeling in his legs, “Oh...er..uh.. Yeah! I mean, it’s not anything special. It’s a big goof-fest. I dunno, but if you really want to…” 

Dan laughs quietly to himself, “Yeah, that’d be cool. This is me, by the way.” 

He puts one foot on the bottom step, transitioning to that awkward stage of saying goodbye to someone you’ve just met and don’t really know if you’ll ever see again. Someone you’ve shared such traumatic life experiences as the one they had this afternoon in Starbucks. 

Phil’s about to say goodbye when he notices the little birds in the tree planted on the sidewalk next to him. Then he looks up and around him and realizes that the building Dan is about to walk into, is Phil’s flat. 

“Uhm.” 

“What?” Dan asks. 

“You live here?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

Phil looks back to Dan’s very confused face, “Uh, because I live here.” 

Phil walks up the step so that he’s level with Dan. 

“Oh,” is all Dan says. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, that’s fucking weird.” 

“Yeah, a little.” 

Dan laughs, “What a weird fucking coincidence. I’ve never seen you before.” 

Phil shrugs, “I don’t go out much.” 

“Huh,” Dan mumbles. “I’m new here but I feel like I would’ve noticed  _ you. _ ” 

Phil doesn’t know what that means and he’s too afraid to ask, so he doesn’t. 

“Well, wanna go inside?” 

Dan turns and almost misses the next step, “Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry.” 

They go inside and wait for the elevator together. Phil presses three and Dan presses four. Which Phil thinks is even weirder, but Dan doesn’t say anything. They don’t say much in the elevator. 

It pings open on Phil’s floor and he holds the door for a second to say goodbye to Dan. 

“Sorry again, about the coffee and your stuff. Thanks for letting me get you a new shirt.” 

Dan half-smiles, “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for the new shirt.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Phil gives him an awkward thumbs-up with his free hand. 

He starts to go and the elevator doors start to close, but Dan sticks his hand in between them before they do. He comes into the hallway and lets the door close behind him. Phil’s brain is going a mile a minute thinking of all the possibilities of what’s about to happen. He curses his wild imagination for some of the things it conjures up. 

“Hey! Phil. I know this is fucking weird but,” he starts fumbling in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. He finds a pen and Phil’s mushy brain just sticks his arm out to Dan. 

Dan looks at him skeptically, before taking hold of Phil’s arm and starts writing. 

“I know your phone is busted, but I’d really like to read your comic. Maybe I’ll send you some of my emo poetry, just for a laugh.” 

Phil’s arm feels tingly where Dan writes his phone number, “Thanks, but you really don’t have to.” 

Dan squeezes Phil’s arm, “You’re nice, Phil. Not many people have been nice to me… like ever. Let me be nice back, yeah?” 

“Okay, yeah.” 

Dan lets go of his arm and walks back towards the elevator, “Seeya round.” 

“Yeah! Bye!” 

And then Dan’s gone in the elevator and Phil can’t get his apartment door unlocked fast enough. Once he’s inside he pulls out his phone and tries his best to squeeze out what little life it has left into a text to Bryony. 

_ Met a guy at bux long story -  _

The screen flashes green and yellow. 

_ \- phone brok--  _

The screen goes black and no amount of button combinations will make it come back on. 

It’s fine. He’ll run to the Apple store before it closes. He’s still got his laptop. Hopefully Bry isn’t still waiting on that coffee. 

He studies the phone number written on his arm. He tries not to think too dreamily about it. Dan is just some guy he met at a Starbucks… who also happens to live in Phil’s building. And likes dogs. And hums the Zelda theme. And laughs at Phil being a goof. And wants to read Phil’s comic about internet zombies. 

A coincidence. That’s what Dan had called it. 

Phil believes in everything. The only thing Phil doesn’t believe in is coincidences. 


	2. Chapter 2

Phil gets his phone fixed and he writes a few pages of something he hates and he responds to all of Bryony’s annoyed texts for ditching her and wastes time looking at pictures of cute dogs on Instagram and definitely does not think about Dan. 

He enters Dan’s number into his contacts and thinks about texting him. And then thinks about why it’s probably a terrible idea. 

Dan is proper fit. Phil looks like a goose. 

Dan is sad. Phil doesn’t know what to do with that. 

Dan is a musician. Phil only knows about music if it’s 2000s pop or Muse. 

Dan looks about twenty-one. Phil is almost thirty. 

Them meeting was strange, fate involved or not. Although Phil’s pretty sure fate had something to do with it. Still, fate doesn’t solve all Phil’s problems. Fate only goes so far. 

Mostly, Phil’s scared. At least that’s what Bryony tells him when she shows up unannounced at his flat a few nights later. 

“You need to get laid and he sounds like the perfect guy to do it.” 

Phil blushes, “Bry! He’s literally upstairs. What if he…” 

“Hears us? Come on, Phil. Stop being an idiot.” 

“Excuse me?” Phil splutters. “I’m not…! I’m thinking logically.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Mate, when was the last time you and logic had anything to do with each other?” 

She takes a bite of pizza and leans back into his sofa. Phil’s stood up in the middle of the lounge, anxiously pacing back and forth while Bryony, chill as ever, eats all of his Domino’s without shame. 

“Leave some for me, will you?” 

The truth is he hasn’t eaten much in the past few days. It’s not even Dan that’s making him anxious. It’s Dan on top of everything else. 

“Phil, come here. I’m going to be serious for a second, okay? You like this guy? Even just as a friend? Literally, what’s the harm in texting him? Send him the comic link, you said he wanted to read it. He sounds nice, Phil. Wouldn’t hurt you to have another friend. Stop worrying and thinking too much. You’ll just ruin it for yourself like you do everything else.” 

She takes another bite of pizza and turns on the TV to start browsing through Netflix. Phil swears, she acts like she lives here. 

He sits down beside her, “What do you mean I ruin everything for myself?” 

“Hey, it’s not like you do it on purpose.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She turns to face him, “You overthink. And you rationalize all the reasons why you can’t have what you want, why you shouldn’t have it. Like with the LA thing.” 

“The LA thing wasn’t meant to be.” 

“The LA thing could’ve worked out, Phil. You know that. You say yes to everything, you get scared, and then you sabotage yourself. I’m tired of watching you do it.” 

Phil can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You know I wouldn’t have gone to LA with my dad being…” 

“Sick,” she finishes for him. 

“Sick,” he swallows thickly. “I wasn’t just scared. You think I should’ve gone? What if… What if he had… Bry I can’t think about that.” 

“I know,” she huffs a breath. “Shut up, will you? I didn’t mean it like that. I just wish you’d let yourself have more. You deserve it, Phil. I love you and I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, k?” 

She takes his hand and squeezes it. 

He says, “Yeah, I know,” and kisses her temple. 

She wipes the spot with the back of her hand and acts disgusted by the act, though Phil knows she’s just as fond of him as he is of her. 

They go back to their pizza and Phil lets Bryony pick something to watch. They eat and watch old Friends episodes and don’t talk about anything that doesn’t also make them laugh. It’s nice. Phil loves her. Even though she doesn’t always know what to say. 

Phil knows she’s probably right. It’s not like he isn’t aware of his own self sabotage. It’s supposed to be one of those things no one ever brings up. Because they know saying something won’t do any good. Phil is set in his ways and no matter how much he’d like to feel a bit freer and a little less scared, it’s just the way he’s wired. Or at least that’s what he’d thought. 

Dan feels like another thing that’s just out of his control. Phil doesn’t want to try to make it happen. He just wants it to  _ happen. _ On its own. It’s too much of a headache to think about, Dan plus Phil’s issues with control and disappointment. It’s not anything Phil’s actually ready to deal with. He’s got too many worries in his head. 

But he still thinks maybe Bryony’s right. 

Later, Phil pulls out his phone and sends Dan a text. 

_ Hi Dan. It’s Phil from Starbucks. Here’s the link to my comic I was telling you about.  _

After Bryony’s left and while Phil’s brushing his teeth before bed, he gets a text back. 

_ hey phil took u long enough thanks for the comic can’t wait to read x  _

He feels relieved. Everything’s perfectly normal and not at all awkward. Maybe he didn’t need to worry after all. Maybe this could be simple and all of the things he was worrying about were just silly worries. Maybe Dan could be good. Phil just hopes. He hopes pretty hard. 

He decides to wait until morning before texting back and crawls into bed feeling slightly less queasy than he had all week. 

* 

It’s 3am and Phil’s still awake. His brain won’t be quiet. He’s not even sure he’s slept at all, he can’t remember how much time has passed or when he decided he was too awake to pretend to be sleeping. 

He thinks about grabbing his laptop and trying to write. Some of his best work has come to him in the middle of the night. His brain still feels too mushy and he doesn’t feel like staring failure in the face. He’s still on a bit of a high from the success of texting Dan. 

So, he checks his phone. It’s been on silent mode for most of the night and now he’s met with more than a few texts from Dan. He squints at the screen. 

_ mate wtf _

_ there r gay zombies in ur comic???  _

_ lmao that one guy just wants to hug a zombie  _

_ u wrote this?? _

_ why is this not published????  _

_ fuck ur probably sleeping  _

_ sorry phil  _

_ i really like ur comic  _

_ what r u doing tomorrow?  _

Phil smiles in the dark. There’s a new feeling in his stomach that’s probably not good. Probably too soon. He doesn’t really care. This is better than worrying about his dad or about his next project. This feels too good. He feels like a goofy kid with his phone in his hand in the middle of the night. It’s nice to feel young and reckless. 

Phil calls Jimmy. It’s late and Phil should probably feel guilty about that but he doesn’t. Jimmy’s always awake in the middle of the night. 

He answers, “Phil, the fuck?” 

“Were you sleeping?” 

Jimmy’s silent for a second, “No. What’s up? Why are you calling me at 3am?” 

Before he can regret it, he says, “Do you believe in soulmates, Jim?” 

There’s shuffling on the other line. “Phil. You’re not joking, right? Are you joking? Please tell me you’re not joking.” 

Phil can’t help but smile, “I don’t think I’m joking.” 

“You don’t  _ think?” _ Jimmy all but yells down the phone. 

Phil tells him about Starbucks and about fate and about his mushy brain and reads the texts Dan sent and tries his very best not to gush about this guy he still barely knows. 

“Don’t you think that… when it’s the right guy… you just know? Isn’t that what they always say, you just  _ know _ ? I mean, that’s what mum always told me,” Phil says giddily. 

He can almost see Jimmy smile, “You think you  _ just know _ about this guy? Dan?” 

Phil sighs, “I don’t know. Maybe. He asked what I’m doing tomorrow. You think that means something?” 

“I think it means he wants to know what you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimmy teases. 

“Right, right. I know  _ that. _ ” 

“I also think you should respond.” 

“I will. Hey, Jimmy? I miss you.” His brain has started to feel foggy. Sleep is sounding more possible than before. It’s probably nearing 4am. 

Jimmy laughs, “I miss you too Philly. Can I say something before you go? Be careful. I’m glad this guy seems amazing and everything. Just… don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

“Did you not get ahead of yourself with Tom? Isn’t that exactly what you did?” 

“No, Phil. Tom and I have been going out for a month. You’ve known this guy, what? Three days?” 

“Easy for you to say,” Phil mumbles. Jimmy hasn’t been alone for years. He’s had guys come in and out of his life. Someone to share his bed with, someone to feel close to Phil. Phil hasn’t been anywhere close to that for years. He’s tried his best not to resent his friend for having what Phil can’t seem to find, but it’s hard to be alone. And now he’s got something to look forward to. Jimmy’s got to understand that. Phil just won’t say it. 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t. I’m not completely useless.” 

“Phil, I didn’t say that. I love you, okay? I’m glad you met someone.” 

“Thanks. Love you too. Goodnight, Jim.” Phil hangs up the phone and stares at the ceiling for a full minute, thinking about what Jimmy said. 

He’s got Bryony and Jimmy’s words all mixed up in his brain now. Bry thinks he’s scared. Jimmy thinks he’s too eager. Phil doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t understand how this all fits together, he just knows it has to somehow. It’s too confusing to think about right now when he’s on the edge of sleep. He uses all the energy he’s got left to text Dan. 

_ I’m not doing anything. You?  _

And he falls asleep. 

*

Dan wasn’t doing anything either, it turned out. Phil suggested they meet at Starbucks and Dan almost immediately rejected that idea. Instead, Phil was invited up to Dan’s flat. He agreed, mostly because it meant he didn’t have to leave the building. 

He knocks on Dan’s door at half past 3 in the afternoon. Dan opens it a moment later and today he’s smiling. There’s still dark circles under his eyes like the other day, but he seems much more awake. 

“Hello,” Dan says. 

“Hi.” 

“Welcome to mi casa.” 

“Thanks.” 

Dan’s flat is laid out almost exactly like Phil’s, but lacking a lot more furniture. There’s a sofa bed in the lounge and a single stool by the breakfast bar in the kitchen area. His TV sits on top of a cardboard box and his game consoles and the wires that go with them are scattered and tangled up around it on the floor. 

The thing that grabs Phil’s attention is the shiny, white, upright piano sat in the corner of the lounge. 

Dan’s whole flat is mostly black and white. All his decor follows the monochromatic pattern, down to the throw pillows on his sofa. The only thing out of place are the few cardboard boxes scattered around. 

“It’s not much,” Dan says. “I just moved here a few months ago and I’ve spent almost all my money on rent so…it’s a bit unfurnished at the moment. But I’ve got everything I need.” 

Phil finds that hard to believe. His flat is cluttered full of knick knacks and memorabilia that he deems absolutely essential to living. But he keeps that thought to himself. 

Instead, he says, “I like it. It’s very you.” 

Dan laughs, “What, depressing?” 

“No, just simple.” 

Dan raises his eyebrows, “You just think that ‘cos you don’t know me yet.” 

“I know enough.” 

Dan hums, leading them over to the sofa. 

Phil’s feeling a little braver today. He sits down next to Dan, not to close, and takes a second just to look at him. His face is young but maybe not as young as he’d thought. His hair looks a little wet, closely curled on his forehead. Everything about him looks soft. Phil just wants to reach out and touch. 

Dan quirks his eyebrow, “Something on my face?” 

“Oh uh, no,” Phil coughs. “Just… thinking.” 

“Uh oh,” Dan laughs. 

“No… I just, where did you come from?” 

My dreams. Heaven. Phil thinks. He’s a character Phil would have written in a story. 

Oh, god. Maybe Jimmy was right. 

“What?” Dan asks. 

“Like, before London.” 

“Oh. Manchester. I’m originally from near Reading, but as soon as I turned 18 I got out of there. I wanted to come to London but my parents weren’t too keen on that. Manchester was a compromise. I tried uni, but that didn’t really work out. I’m a shit student. I saved up for a couple years and now I’m here. I was in a flat in another part of the city for the last year and a half. I had like, 7 flatmates. This place is a lot nicer.” 

Once Dan gets going, he can really talk. He talks with his hands too. His hands are big, Phil notices. And Dan can’t help waving them around everywhere when he rambles on. 

“I’m from near Manchester,” Phil says. Small talk feels like the right way forward. It’s the first step in Phil convincing Dan to tell him all his secrets. “But I’ve been in London since I finished uni. We probably just missed each other.” 

His brain whispers  _ fate. _ That’s all it takes for Phil to be imagining another life where he stayed in Manchester like his parents wanted and met Dan in a different Starbucks and they fell in love and-

Dan hums again, sinking back into a somberness Phil wishes would stay away. He wonders what he said that made Dan get quiet again. 

Quietly and without looking Phil in the eye, Dan says, “It would’ve been nice to know you then.” 

Phil feels his stomach twist. Maybe Dan was thinking the same thing. 

But then he takes it all back. “I mean, sorry. That’s weird. I’m weird. You’re gonna figure that out if you hang out here long enough. I’m not a stalker. And I’m not crazy. Promise. I just… I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. Still don’t.” 

He still won’t look at Phil. “Hey, I don’t think you’re weird. I was kinda thinking the same thing. That in another life… anyway, I don’t think you’re a stalker. If anything I’m the stalker, I spilled coffee on you and then asked to buy you a shirt, like who does that?” 

“It was nice.” 

“Good.” 

Finally, Dan looks up at him. “Maybe we can be weird together.” 

Phil smiles. “Okay.” 

Phil wanders over to the piano. He sits on the bench and puts his fingers on the keys like he knows what he’s doing. He definitely does not. 

“Can I?” he asks. 

Dan scoots to the edge of the sofa behind him. “Go ahead. Play me something, music man.” 

Phil plinks out what little he remembers of the song. He turns back to Dan when he’s finished and he gives a teasing applause. 

“You know anything else?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like something that requires pressing two keys at once?” Dan jokes. 

“Hey! I’m not the musician here, I think it’s pretty impressive I know anything at all.” 

Dan walks over and sits next to him on the bench. Phil is keenly aware of their closeness. Dan’s leg is pressed up against his. His brain is screaming  _ FATE! FATE! FATE!  _

Dan spreads his long fingers over the keys but doesn’t press down. 

“Play me something?” Phil asks.

Dan shakes his head, “Nah, you don’t want to hear me play. Let’s do something more fun, I’ve got Mario Kart.” 

Phil doesn’t let him get off that easy. “Come on! I played for you. I let you read Crazy Internet Zombies. It’s your turn.” 

Phil gets up from the bench and slides Dan to the middle of the seat, his hands tentatively placed on Dan’s shoulders. 

“Play,” he says. 

So Dan plays him a song. And Phil’s never heard it but his heart races through the whole thing because it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. But also, Dan is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He’s hunched over the piano, long legs bunched up and bent to press the pedals, his head bowed over and moving from side to side with the sway of the song. 

He finishes. And Phil has no idea what to say. 

Dan shrugs, “It’s a work in progress.” 

“No no no. It was amaz- It was great. Wow. You’re really good.” 

Dan pulls the piano lid over the keys and moves back to the sofa, “Well, you’re writing is fucking awesome. I read the whole comic last night in one go and, mate, it blew my mind. I loved it.” 

“Thanks. It was just a silly project with my friend, it’s not like  _ art. _ ” 

“I thought it was pretty great,” and Dan’s shoving Phil lightly, just to get him to react. 

It’s almost too much. Phil is suddenly reminded of all the writing he isn’t doing. All the ideas he doesn’t have. All the writers he’ll never be. 

He sighs a long breath before he can stop himself. 

“What?” Dan asks. 

Phil thinks about lying, but with Dan it’s so easy. “I’ve been having some trouble. Like, with writing. With stories. I’ve been feeling a little out of touch, I guess. I don’t know what to do next. And that’s really scary.” 

“I’ve got a good story for you,” Dan says. 

“Oh yeah?” 

Dan smiles, all toothy and pink. “20-something, depressed pianist fights time traveling penguins and kicks his neighbor’s ass at Mario Kart.” 

“Time traveling penguins?” 

“You’ve gotta think of something to top internet zombies, if anything can.” Phil shoves him. 

Phil thinks it’s weird, how Dan knew just what to say. His heart beats faster as it gets harder and harder to ward off all his thoughts about soulmates and destiny and Dan smiling at him so big. 

They play Mario Kart for a few hours and Phil is thoroughly distracted from all of the writing he isn’t doing. Dan wins almost every time and Phil’s a bit disappointed he couldn’t use his skills as a way to impress Dan. But it’s worth it to see the look on Dan’s face when he wins. Phil does win a few races and Dan’s face is almost just as priceless when he does. 

This strangely feels like something Phil’s done before. Like he’s known Dan longer than just a few days. Jimmy said not to get ahead of himself but this doesn’t feel all too soon. It feels like it’s all meant to be. Phil feels himself sliding into place here with Dan. Without all the background noise of his friend’s opinions and his own self doubts. It’s just him and Dan and their stupid banting while Dan kicks his ass at Mario Kart. 

Hours have gone by and Dan lets Phil raid his pantry when they get hungry, which doesn’t have much in it. Phil says next time they should play in Phil’s apartment since he has food and furniture and Dan smiles at that. 

They’re sat at the breakfast bar eating stale cereal and watching a YouTube video PJ had posted of him drawing one of the characters from the comic. Dan is fully obsessed and keeps asking Phil questions every chance he gets. Phil doesn’t know what to say to all of them, but he plays it up so that Dan keeps smiling. 

That’s when fate decides Phil’s having too much fun. 

There’s a knock at the door and Dan checks the time on his phone before going to answer. 

“Already? I told her later…” 

He opens the door and Phil can’t see who’s on the other side of it from where he’s sat. He hears Dan talk in a quiet voice to whoever’s outside. He sounds upset and not at all like the carefree Dan Phil had been hanging out with all day. Phil sees Dan’s shoulders tense. He thinks about going to the door to see what’s going on, but he shakes his head at himself. Dan’s a grown up, he can take care of himself. 

After a few minutes of Phil sitting awkwardly on Dan’s one stool, Dan opens the door and comes back into the kitchen. He’s joined by a very pretty girl. 

“Hey Phil, this is Lacey. My girlfriend. Lacey, this is Phil. He lives downstairs.” 

Girlfriend? 

_ Girlfriend.  _

Dan definitely just said girlfriend. 

She’s short, a little bit too short. Her hair is kind of brown and kind of blond at the same time and she’s wearing an old Britney Spears t-shirt which sucks because Phil loves Britney Spears. And she looks nice. 

“Hi,” she says with a little awkward wave. “Sorry to break up the party.” 

Phil puts on his best fake grin. “No, no party. No breaking up anything. I should probably go anyway, I’ve got work to do. I probably should’ve been doing it anyway. I’m behind.” He mumbles something about deadlines and starts heading towards the door. 

He makes it to the hallway before Dan stops him. 

“Phil! Stop! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was and Lace was supposed to come round for dinner and I honestly forgot. You don’t have to go. You can stay for dinner.” 

“I do. I have work. I just said.” 

“Oh. Okay,” he looks confused and Phil hates that. “Was that weird? Why was that weird?” 

Dan’s eyes are wide and innocent. Phil knows now that he has no idea what Phil had thought all that was. Phil had thought it was a date. He was really hoping it was a date. And now Phil feels like a complete idiot. 

Phil takes a deep breath and says, “It’s not weird. It wasn’t weird. I’m just weird, okay? We’re both weird, like we said. And I’ve got to go.” 

Dan stops him again, “Wait! Do you want to hang out again? I had fun. I liked kicking your ass at Mario Kart. We should do it again, at your place like you said.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“Why do I feel like I did something wrong?” 

Phil shoves his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why do you look upset?” 

Phil tries to control his face. He skews it into something more calm and apathetic. He tries to smile but the muscles in his face have other ideas. He feels like he’s about to cry. He can’t cry in front of Dan, that would look very, very bad. He takes a breath. Counts to three. 

“I’m not. I’m stressed is all. I’ve got to work. Nothing to do with you, don’t worry.” 

Dan takes a step forward at the same time Phil takes a step back. He looks so confused. 

“Text me?” he asks. 

“Okay.” 

Phil takes the stairs, running down them two at a time. He bursts into his apartment and locks the door behind him before lunging onto his bed and screaming into the nearest pillow. 

He doesn’t cry, but he feels a permanent lump form in his throat. He stares at the ceiling and pretends he doesn’t exist. He pretends he’s just a blue square on his duvet and nothing is real. The sun sets and suddenly the room is dark. His phone buzzes a few times but he ignores it. His stomach grumbles and he ignores it. He lets the room get darker and darker, he lets his brain empty out until he’s just a blob on his bed. There’s no Dan in his head, no hope about fate or soulmates. There’s just Phil, hating himself a little bit more than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is a bit late! i've been trying to be as respectful as i can during this time. please consider donating to blm charities. (edit: here's a link with more info - https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) hope this brings a little light to your day.

It’s completely dark when Phil comes out of his cave. He doesn’t open his phone, he just grabs his laptop and sinks into the sofa. He opens the blank document from a few days before and types out some sentences with just his index fingers. 

_This is not a love story, because those always end up worse than they started. This is a story about a sparrow. The sparrow’s name was Fred. Fred lived alone his whole life. And Fred was happy. That was Fred’s fate, his destiny. He was okay. He didn’t mind. He liked being alone._

Eventually, he opens his phone. There are a few texts from Martyn about his mum’s birthday and one from Bryony about going for sushi next weekend. 

And one from Dan. 

_i had fun today thanks it’s been a while since i’ve had fun like that_

Phil wants to throw his phone at the wall but he can’t because it’s already a replacement for the old one he broke. So he texts Jimmy because he doesn’t know what else to do and he’s actually sick of being alone. 

_I got ahead of myself._

He turns off his phone and goes to bed. 

*

The next few mornings are gray. And Phil can’t help but think about fate and coincidences and Dan and sunshine. He works in bed with the curtains closed and lights off. The writing isn’t anything really, but it feels consistent and right now that feels better than nothing. 

Phil thinks maybe he won’t have to admit defeat after all, maybe half a broken heart was just what he needed. 

Only half a broken heart because, well, he wasn’t in love with Dan. He’d known Dan for a day. A bad day that got better because Phil was able to do something nice for someone. Phil is a repressed romantic, and Dan was the perfect thing to drudge up all those floaty feelings in him. Tall, handsome, kind, sarcastic, nerdy. All the things Phil thought made sense for someone he could love. 

The disappointment and absolute obliteration of all his expectations hurt. For lack of a better term, it hurt like a broken heart. But not fully. Because it was never real. Phil was just doing what he always did: believing in things even though he couldn’t see them. 

The real stuff was this: 

Dan has a girlfriend. Dan is straight. Jimmy was right, Phil got ahead of himself. 

But also, Dan liked hanging out with Phil. 

Dan said he hadn’t had fun like that in a long time. 

So Phil writes about anything but love. He ignores Jimmy’s texts and only gets out of bed for food and coffee and to use the toilet. He writes about time travel and penguins and dogs. He watches old Friends episodes when his brain goes numb. He responds to Bryony so she knows he isn’t dead, but he doesn’t say much. 

*

Bryony comes over at some point while it’s still gray outside. She lets herself in, which isn’t too out of the ordinary since she has Phil’s spare key. She finds Phil lying in his bed watching a YouTube video about zodiac signs. He barely looks up at her when she scoots into bed next to him, shoes and all. 

She finds one of his hands under the covers and wraps both of hers around it. She squeezes it tightly. She lets the video go until it ends before saying anything. 

“What’s with the sad boy hours, Philly?” 

Phil lets out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. He shrugs. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in bed or the last time he spoke something out loud. His mouth tastes bad and his throat feels tight. He’s gross and cracked like the way you feel after crying for too long. He feels bad that Bryony came all the way here to just see Phil pouting. Phil’s an adult and what he’s done to himself is silly kid stuff. He shouldn’t need more than a day to get over the initial embarrassment of assuming anything could happen with Dan. Phil just got his hopes up, he’ll be fine. 

It’s been a long few years of getting his hopes up for no good reason. He always bounces back easily and he’s not sure why now it hurts worse. He keeps telling himself stop being ridiculous, you barely even know Dan. 

“Phil.” 

“He’s straight and I’m stupid and I wish fate would stop fucking with me.” His voice sounds hoarse and dry. 

Bryony reaches over to the side of his bed where a forgotten glass of water sits. She hands it to him, helping him sit up so he can drink it. 

“You’re not stupid.” 

“I am. He invited me over. I thought that was like a prelude.” 

“To getting in his pants?” 

Phil splutters, “No. To going out. I thought it kind of was a date already. He played me his piano, Bry. It was romantic. It felt… like something.” 

Bryony’s quiet for too long. “Phil.” 

“No, I know what you’re gonna say.” 

“Am I not allowed to say it?” 

“It isn’t anything I don’t already know.” 

Bryony has been witness to all of Phil’s trial and errors when it comes to guys. She knows every boy Phil’s ever tried to love, in order. She could count all his mistakes on her fingers and give you all the juicy details. She’s also always the one cleaning up the pieces of Phil’s heart. And she has never complained. 

But Phil knows it’s not easy. She’s probably sick of the pattern and sick of Phil moping. Maybe she’s just sick of Phil. It wouldn’t surprise him. Phil is sick of Phil. 

“Maybe he’s not straight. Just because he’s got a girlfriend doesn’t mean he can’t like dick.” 

Phil wasn’t expecting that. He almost laughs. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Phil says. 

“I’m being serious.” 

Phil gives her a look like come on. But Bryony doesn’t falter. 

She keeps going, “I’m being serious. And you already know you’re being ridiculous so I’m not gonna waste time by telling you.”

“He texted me after we hung out. Told me he hadn’t had fun like that in a long time. God, Bry. I’m doing that thing and I don’t know how to stop.” 

“How many kids do you have?” 

“In this fantasy, two. One boy and one girl and Dan writes them their own personal lullabies and we have a house and my mum loves him almost as much as she loves me.” 

“Having kids is a headache.” 

Phil sighs, “He’s perfect, Bry.” 

“You barely know him, Phil.” And there it is. 

“I know that. But it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like he’s someone I might’ve known for a long time. Maybe in a past life.” 

Bryony wraps her arms around him and he lets himself be held by his best friend. She’s heard this all before and every single time Phil says it feels different. That this time it feels right. But his brain can’t help but count off every single coincidence that isn’t a coincidence that’s led him to Dan. Because he might be an adult, but he still believes in fairy tales and happy endings. 

“I’m sorry he’s straight,” Bry says. 

Phil shrugs, “Maybe he isn’t.” 

“Maybe,” she agrees. 

“Thanks.” For putting me back together, time after time. 

She hums, “Shut up. Also, you smell. Take a shower, mate.” 

She’s right. He smells and his room is a mess of wrappers and take away boxes. He’s done his sulking. Now he has to go back to pretending that he is a functioning human adult. 

*

Before Bryony leaves, they have a late lunch of whatever Phil can cobble together from his fridge. They sit on the sofa and talk about the cat Bryony desperately wants to get and Phil feels himself settle into something he knows and loves. At least he has this. 

After she’s gone, Phil takes a shower and cleans up his room. He takes the bins out and opens the curtains and replies to Jimmy’s texts. He’s feeling a little proud of himself for doing all the responsible things he normally neglects. He even emails his agent a few summaries just to say he’s done some work. 

*

Dan texts him over the weekend to ask him for a Mario Kart rematch. 

_I can’t. I’m at my parent’s for the weekend. Mum’s bday._

_shit that sucks,_ Dan says.

_Not really. They live by the sea. It’s nice._

_sorry i forget not everyone hates going home_

Phil doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

_See you when I get back?_

*

His mum’s birthday is a nice break from work and the chaos of the city and his constant scurrying in and out of the flat so as to not accidentally run into Dan. He’s not avoiding Dan. The timing just worked out with his trip to the Isle. He crosses his fingers and toes that everything is easier once he gets back. 

Phil’s a coward. But he’s okay with that. It feels better than having to face Dan up close. 

He feels okay with where they’re at. It’s not like he completely ghosted his new friend. They’ve been texting. Almost everyday. Phil sends Dan memes and Dan responds with more words than Phil ever expects. Rarely does he ever just get lol as a response. Which is mostly what he’s going for. Dan has opinions. And he tells Phil all about them. 

Phil’s weekend away doesn’t totally feel like the escape he’d thought it would. Because half the time his brain is back in London with Dan. He eventually has to put his phone on silent. Dan keeps interrupting their family board games and Martyn keeps groaning about the constant beeps throwing his focus. Phil thinks it’s a sorry excuse for Martyn being terrible at Catan. 

*

 _u bored yet_ , Dan texts.

_Just finished beating Martyn at Catan._

_martyn?_

_Brother._

_ugh_

_He’s alright._

_younger?_

_Older._

_ha u showed him_

_My dad actually won. I got second place._

_there is no second place in catan_

_The way I play it there is._

_i bet i could beat u at catan_

_You’re on. I am a board game MASTER._

_careful i’ll hold u to that lester_

*

They keep messaging until the late hours of the night. Phil texts with his glasses off and squints to see the screen in the dark. Dan doesn’t seem any closer to sleep the later the night gets. He tells Phil he’s been restless these past few days. Phil knows the feeling. 

But tonight his eyelids fall heavier and heavier. He tries to stay awake. 

He falls asleep with his phone in his hand. 

*

The ocean breeze helps clear his mind. He gets some writing done in the morning for once. Not because he feels like he has to but because he has an actual idea. Something that wakes him up with the sun and has him grabbing for his laptop hoping to get it down before it fades back into his dreams. 

His mum sneaks up on him that morning.

“You’re up early,” she says, a hand on his shoulder. 

He jumps. He’s sat outside with his laptop perched in his lap, but he’d been paying more attention to the rusty color of the sky and the clouds and all the morning light he never sees. “Jesus, mum. Wear a bell.” 

“And miss out on seeing you make faces like that? Never.” 

She sits down next to him. She always looks younger in the morning. They’d all celebrated her birthday this weekend but Phil honestly can’t remember how old she turned. She keeps getting older and Phil’s never around to see the gradual deepening of the lines in her face. It’s a harsh new reality every time he comes home. It’s worse the more time in between visits that passes. He makes a mental promise to himself to stop avoiding them just because he feels rubbish. It’s not a good enough excuse. 

But in this light, his mother just looks beautiful and awake. He presses his fingers into the dark circles that he knows sit under his eyes. It doesn’t seem fair. 

“What are you working on?” She peeks at the document on his screen. 

He closes it quickly, not letting her see. “Just a story.” 

“I wish you’d let me read what you write,” she says, unsurprisingly. This is a conversation they’ve had before. 

“Maybe someday when I’ve got something worth sharing.” 

“You’re a wonderful writer, Phil. You’ve been so successful.” 

He sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Holding in breath just to release it dramatically. It makes him sound like a teenager. “Not these days.” 

“It ebbs and flows. Right?” 

He nods. “Right.” 

“What’s got you up so early, child?” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Come on, love. I’m your mum. I know when something’s not right.” She gives him that mum-look. The look that says you can’t keep secrets from me, kid.

He bites back the instinct to sigh again. “Do you believe in soulmates, mum?” It's a question he's been wanting to ask all weekend. 

She hums. “I think so, in a way.” 

“In what way?” He doesn’t miss a beat. 

She thinks for a second, and then says, “I think the people you can’t live without in life are by default your soulmates. Because without them, you don’t feel whole. Like your dad. And you boys. You all make me whole. Without you lot, I’d just be less.” 

Phil smiles. Then frowns. “You don’t think there’s some rando-guy out in the world that’s capital-P perfect for you? But you’d just never know because he went a different way to class one day?” 

“Phil, why are you asking me this? I love your father. Even if a rando-guy showed up on our doorstep to tell me I’m his soulmate, I wouldn’t leave Nigel for him. I’ve been in love with your father for more than half my life. Nothing could change that.” She’s so matter-of-fact that it almost makes Phil angry. 

His parent’s marriage is something he’ll never live up to. He’s grateful for them, of course. He loves how cute they are on their seaside walks, holding hands. He smiles every time he sees his dad do something special for his mum, even if it’s just holding the door open for her. His mum was right there by his side when his dad was ill. Phil wishes he could’ve been as brave. 

But sometimes, it just makes him lonely. To see them in love and regretting nothing. Living their happiest life in retirement. Phil wants that, even if he’s too afraid to admit it. He wants it so bad that sometimes the only feeling he knows is longing. Maybe that makes Phil a cliche, but he’d rather that than feeling bitter all the time. 

He’s quiet for too long. “Do you think you found your soulmate?” she asks. 

“No,” he says too fast. “Just asking. Research, you know. For the story.” 

She nods. She probably knows he’s lying. He doesn’t care. They’ve done this dance a thousand times. She’s the most patient mum in the world, to wait for him to tell her the whole truth. But she always waits anyway. 

*

Dan texts him while his dad drives him and Martyn to the airport. 

_when do u come back_

_Soon._

_how soon_ , Dan replies almost immediately. 

_Like today._

In the back of his mind he knows he should be conserving his phone battery for the flight, but planes have outlets now don’t they? And replying to texts really doesn’t drain it that much. 

He’s become much too skilled at convincing himself to do the harder thing. It would be too easy to ignore Dan’s texts, to pretend he doesn’t exist, and never think about his stupid soft curls ever again. 

Of course he’s kidding himself. He always is these days. Those curls show up in his dreams. Sometimes they’re in his mouth. But he’s too awake right now to think too hard about that. 

_i’m bored_ , Dan says. 

_Work?_

_nope_

_Food?_

_good idea lester_

_I’m known for those._

Phil smiles to himself. He’s never been known for being smooth. That felt smooth. But he isn’t flirting. 

“What’s got you smiley?” Martyn asks, looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror from the frontseat. 

Phil shrugs, “Nothing.” 

“Hmm, yeah. Right.” Phil swears he catches him rolling his eyes. He’s probably still miffed because Cornelia wasn’t able to come for the weekend. He always gets pissy after not seeing her for a while. 

His phone beeps again. 

_don’t forget i came up with time travel penguins_

_You’ll get an acknowledgement. Maybe._

_i better be the fucking dedication_

_I’ll name a character after you._

_a penguin named dan_

_Sounds like a hero to me._

_i’d be the villain_

_Sure…_

_just come home already_

Something catches in Phil’s throat. He almost doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s probably reading into things. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’s learned from his mistakes. 

_You owe me a Mario Kart rematch._

_next the penguins will be teleporting_

Phil laughs out loud and Martyn looks at him skeptically. 

_I have to go. Battery’s low._

Dan sends him a gif of a penguin falling on some ice and Phil turns his phone off. 

*

He’s not sure what seeing Dan again will be like. Not after he ran out on him before and now all these messages. Phil thinks he’d better start being reasonable since Dan is taken and obviously not going to be interested in Phil any time soon. 

But damn does he make it hard. 

_just come home already_ floats across his brain. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Martyn shoving him to walk faster towards their gate. Phil’s already made them late by going back and forth on what snacks he wants for the flight. Martyn threatens to leave him behind.

Phil puts his long legs to use and walks faster, shoving every single Dan-related thought to the farthest part of his brain. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy late birthday dan! this chapter should've been up sooner but life is kicking my ass right now. hope you like it :)

Phil finds himself, almost unsurprisingly, at Dan’s door as soon as he’s dropped off his bags at his own flat. 

It’s probably too late to be here and Phil’s exhausted from traveling most of the day even though it’s a short flight. Time on an airplane always manages to make him feel groggy. But he wants to see Dan, to make sure he’s still real and not some dream Phil’s made up. And Dan sounded like he wanted to see him too. The sun has already gone down, but Phil always feels braver in the dark anyway. 

He hasn’t knocked yet. He’s just standing there. Staring at the door like if he tries hard enough he could see through it. Phil can hear the music coming from inside the flat. That’s why he hasn’t knocked yet. He can’t make himself interrupt Dan. 

He’s well aware this is creepy. Standing in the hall with his ear pressed up against Dan’s door. But then the music stops. There’s some rustling around and a terribly dissonant chord. Phil can imagine Dan slamming his hands into the keys in frustration. He grins to himself. He’s done the same thing a million times. Key smashing on his blank document until he feels less shit about what he’s written. Just a bunch of jumbled letters, usually a lot of j’s typed over and over. 

He knocks. 

Dan opens the door slowly, like he’s scared of what could possibly be standing on the other side at this hour. He opens it wide once he sees that it’s only Phil. 

“You’re home.” 

And there he is. Real, definitely not made up. Looking surprised to see Phil stood at his door.

Phil smiles a closed-mouth kind of smile, “Yep.”

They stand in awkward silence for a moment. Phil thinks he could just leave it at that, but he won’t. Dan’s face is so soft and unthreatening, Phil’s self restraint crumbles at the sight of him. He shakes his head at himself and then, “Are you hungry?” 

* 

They go to a pizza shop down the street to pick up their order because Dan says he hasn’t been out of the house all day and Phil’s tired of sitting. Walking next to Dan is nice. It feels familiar. Phil likes that he can look at Dan as they go and not worry about Dan noticing him looking too long. Dan’s focus is always ahead but his eyes flit from place to place as they pass through the city. 

The road glitters in the streetlight from the rain that had come earlier in the day. Phil rarely finds himself outside at this time of night. It’s a lot quieter. He likes it. 

“This is my favorite time of day,” Dan says, almost like he was reading Phil’s mind. 

“Yeah.” Phil says, looking up at him. Dan matches the world around him. Black sweatshirt hanging off him, swallowing him up. His eyes glittering too. But Phil can’t say that. 

He says, “It’s quiet.” 

“Yeah.” 

Dan looks sad. Well, maybe not sad. He just looks… likes something’s missing, Phil thinks. Like he’s looking for something. There’s a lot in his head. Phil wants to know it all. He wants to ask. He can’t. _You don’t even know him._

“How was the Isle?” Dan’s looking at him now. A small smile on his face and it feels easier. 

Phil shrugs, “It was good. It’s always good. I got some work done. Which is good.” 

“Good,” Dan giggles. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” 

Phil bites the inside of his cheek. He feels nervous now. “I just know you said it’s not easy being around your family. I don’t need to brag to you about mine.” 

Dan shakes his head, “It’s fine, Phil. I’m glad your family isn’t as shit as mine.” 

“Okay.” 

He doesn’t understand why this feels weird after all the texting. Like suddenly he doesn’t know what to say or how to act or where to put his hands. He feels like a kid again, on a first date with no idea what he’s doing. Not that this is a date, he knows it isn’t. They’re just getting pizza. They’re friends. Phil likes being friends. 

“Finish your penguin story then?” Dan asks. 

Phil smiles, “Something like that.” 

“Can I read it? I mean, when it’s done?” 

Letting Dan read something he’s written that isn’t some silly comic feels terrifying. It feels like letting him in on what he really goes on inside his head but written down in detail. If you look close enough, you could see all of Phil’s secrets in what he writes. He doesn’t want Dan to know all his secrets just yet. 

“Maybe.” 

Dan smirks in a way that makes Phil look down at his feet as he walks. “Alright.” 

*

On their walk back after they’ve picked up the pizzas, Dan starts humming. It sounds like what he was playing earlier, but that’s all Phil can recognize it from. It feels oddly normal, this whole thing. Walking back to their flat together, pizzas in hand, talking about music and terrible page-to-screen adaptations. 

“Lord of the Rings?” 

“Yes.” 

“The extended edition?”

“Those are like four million hours long, mate.” 

“Exactly.” 

“You’re a mad lad,” Dan knocks his shoulder into Phil’s and he stumbles off the pavement into the street. 

“Hey!” He steps back up and shoves back at Dan but he dodges Phil’s shoulder, moving out of Phil’s space just in time. 

Dan smiles, innocently, “What? It’s not my fault you can’t walk in a straight line.” 

Phil rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning stupid and silly, “You fully did that on purpose.” 

“You have no proof.”

“You literally shoved me!” 

“Because you walked right in front of me!” 

“You better be glad you didn’t make me drop the pizza.” They’re each carrying a box, Dan taps the corner of his to the corner of Phil’s. He keeps walking too close to Phil and Phil can’t help but move into his space. “Don’t jinx me, there’s still time.” 

“Dropping my pizza would be worse than spilling coffee all over my favorite shirt. That’s like a category 9-” 

“It was your favorite shirt?” Phil stops. 

Dan shrugs, “Maybe. I have loads of shirts. I’ll just pick a new favorite.” 

“You never told me that.” 

“You already felt pretty bad. No reason to make it worse.” 

Phil shakes his head, “Well, now I do feel worse.” 

“It’s alright. You bought me a new one, remember, you goof?” Dan’s smile falls a little at Phil’s frown. 

“Yeah, but you can’t just replace something that easily. I’m sorry I-” 

“Phil, it was just a shirt.” 

“Was it?” Phil doesn’t understand. He’s too sentimental of a person to be able to feel the way Dan says he does. He still has shirts in his drawers from uni days that don’t even fit anymore. They’re memories for him, tucked away in fraying fabric and stains that never came out. 

But Dan doesn’t look at all sad about it. He puts his free hand on Phil’s shoulder, too close to his neck and says, “Yeah, Phil. It’s not a big deal. You really think if I was mad I’d be hanging out with you?” 

Dan’s index finger touches the skin of his neck where his collar stops. Phil tries not to notice. 

“Keep your enemies close, you know.” 

Dan shoves him lightly again, but Phil doesn’t lose his footing this time. 

“Come on, dork. This pizza is calling my name.”

Dan starts off again towards home and Phil follows after him. 

“You didn’t deny it!” 

*

The pizza gets eaten in a record amount of time, but still Phil can’t help but watch Dan savor every bite. The whole thing seems ritualistic for Dan. Phil smirks at Dan when he makes a too-satisfied noise as he swallows. Dan blushes or tries not to and Phil tries not to smile wider, but he doesn’t try that hard. 

Phil brings out a bottle of wine, “Sorry, I don’t have any beer.” He doesn’t know what Dan drinks but he thinks it’s probably cooler than whatever he found hiding in the back of his cabinets. 

“Wine’s great,” Dan says. 

They drink it from coffee mugs. Phil’s run out of glasses because he’s constantly forgetting to do his dishes and he owns way too many mugs for just one person. He hands Dan his wine and sets the half empty bottle on the coffee table. They finish it off slowly, both of them taking their time as it gets later and neither of them moves to turn on the tv or suggest a round of Mario Kart. 

Dan lies on Phil’s sofa and Phil lies on the floor, both of them holding their stomachs. Phil feels full and sleepy and way too content. There’s a warm feeling starting in his stomach and spreading to his fingertips and toes. It’s the wine or the exhaustion or both. In the back of his head, he wonders what time it is. He realizes he hasn’t looked at his phone in a while. He doesn’t think Dan has either. Phil has forgotten for a few hours that there’s a world outside this room, he’s forgotten that there are people other than him and Dan in it. 

It probably isn’t that late. He’s just tired and a little confused about what day it is. He doesn’t care. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dan says to the ceiling. 

Phil makes a noise like, “Hmm.” His eyelids are heavy and he’s thinking about how weird it is that the floor is so comfortable right now. He could just sleep here. He might’ve already been, he can’t remember. He’s a bit tipsy. 

Dan sits up, “Were you avoiding me?” 

Now Phil’s awake. “Um, when?” 

“Before you went to your parent’s. After we hung out.” 

He should lie. That’s the easiest way to not sound like a loser. He doesn’t want to mess this up. He also doesn’t really know what he could say. He feels like if he did lie, Dan would see right through him. There’s something about them, they’re so similar, that Phil doesn’t know if Dan would believe him if he said no. He really doesn’t want to ruin this. He so easily could with whatever mess comes out of his mouth. 

“Not… not really,” Phil says, sitting up. 

“Not really?” 

Dan scoots down to sit on the floor with Phil, leaning against the couch. Phil plays with a thread on his sock that’s been pulled through. 

“It just sort of worked out that way. I know it seemed like…” 

“You ignored my texts too. For a few days.” 

“I had a deadline,” Phil mumbles. “I was busy.” 

Dan’s frowning. “I didn’t mean to pull you away from work.” 

“S’not your fault. I’m an adult, I make decisions for myself.” He’s finding it a lot harder to look at Dan now. 

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” 

“Tell you what?” 

“Why you freaked out and left.” 

Phil thought maybe Dan had forgotten all about that. He’d hoped Dan had. He for sure thought that Dan would’ve been freaked out, but he wasn’t. He just texted Phil and kept texting him even when Phil was being weird and flaky. 

Phil doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand Dan or why he cares about Phil at all. He’s given Phil more than one second chance to be a normal enough person around him that maybe can be a friend. Phil isn’t special. Dan acting like he might be fucks up everything he knows about himself. 

Phil thinks he’s had too much to drink. 

Dan talks fast, “I’m shit at friends and I felt like maybe I’d done something to fuck it all up again. I do that a lot. I fuck things up. ‘Cos like, I saw you in the hall one afternoon when I was checking my mail. You were coming in from somewhere and you took the stairs. Like you didn’t want me to see you. But then you started texting me back. I thought for sure I was being an annoying little shit and you’d block me eventually but…” He stops. 

Phil looks up, because Dan seems out of breath and genuinely upset about it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna say something a little weird, okay? I- I kind of feel lIke I’ve known you way longer than just a few days. That sounds weird-” 

Phil shakes his head, “No, it doesn’t.” 

“It doesn’t?” 

“I know what you mean,” Phil says. “I feel it too. It’s strange. It’s like I’ve known you my whole life. Maybe we knew each other in our past lives.” 

“Past lives?” 

Phil nods, “Sure.” 

“You believe that kind of stuff?” Dan asks. 

“I believe in everything,” he says, simply. 

Dan makes a face Phil’s starting to see a lot. It’s this fond annoyance that Phil recognizes from his brother and Bryony. Dan’s is better though. 

“I didn’t fuck anything up?” 

“I…” Phil chews the inside of his cheek. All of this would be easier if Phil didn’t feel so much. “You didn’t. I’m really awkward-” 

“I am too.” 

“No, I’m _really_ awkward. I’m not great with people. Especially new people. I get in my head a lot. I get all messed up and do stupid things… like take the stairs just to avoid people that still make me… nervous.” 

Dan’s grinning now. “I make you nervous? Why?” 

_Because you’re fit. Because I think you might be my soulmate. Because I don’t want to like you as much as I do._

“Because I want to be your friend. And I’m not great at friends either. Not new ones, at least.” 

Dan smiles, “So we’re both just idiots?” 

That makes Phil laugh. Dan is so different than anything Phil thought he’d be. But he’s also exactly everything he wanted him to be. He’s got to stop thinking shit like that. 

*

They’ve stayed up late without realizing it. Swapping childhood stories and some from uni. Phil has a lot more to tell about being a kid. Dan listens and laughs in all the right places but doesn’t share too many of his own. 

“Most of the stories I have are of me being an absolute failure of a person,” Dan says, spinning the rainbow fidget spinner Phil’s mum had gotten him for Christmas two years ago. “You don’t want to hear about that.” 

“Oh, I definitely do,” Phil says. He looks up at Dan from where he’s sprawled on the floor. The warmth from the wine has started to wear off but he still feels a different kind of happy. A kind he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Oops. 

Phil badgers him enough that Dan tells Phil a little about what it was like for him growing up. It’s funny. Dan goes off, talking with his hands again and speaking in all caps. But there are certain moments when Dan stops, he’ll say something cynical or stare at his hands for one second too long, like he’s remembering something. Something that blows him off course. But he doesn’t tell Phil whatever it is. 

He looks up, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought.” 

“S’okay. You were talking about working at Asda.” 

“Oh, yeah. Never hire me as an employee, I literally-” He goes on like nothing happened. 

Dan falls asleep on Phil’s sofa. Phil doesn’t ask him to stay, he just falls asleep and Phil doesn’t feel like waking him up. 

Phil replays the whole thing in his head as he’s falling asleep. He’d sat there a little while longer after Dan had fallen asleep. Phil had been telling a story about how he broke his arm in uni and eventually Dan stopped making little noises of amusement. Phil barely noticed until he looked over and saw Dan with his eyes closed, face smushed into the sofa cushion. 

Dan’s face looked so young. He told Phil he’s 24 but he’s been mostly on his own since he was 19, after dropping out of uni. Phil can barely imagine that. He still feels like running to his parents every time he messes up or gets rejected or feels like he’s not good enough. Which is basically all the time, every day. Dan said he only talks to his family on holidays and birthdays when he remembers them. He’d whispered it to Phil in the dark, like he was embarrassed or ashamed. Phil wanted to reach for him. But he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how Dan would react. He wasn’t sure what it would mean. 

Dan looked so small lying there on Phil’s couch. Just a boy. Phil couldn’t stop looking at his nose, his open mouth, his eyelashes. Everything about him young and soft and warm. Phil thought about finding room in the space next to him and fitting his body to Dan’s - and then he realized what he was doing. He’s not Edward Cullen. 

Phil went to bed, leaving Dan in the lounge and hoping in the back of his head that he’d still be there in the morning. 

He stares at the ceiling now. Thinking. Trying not to think about Dan and the fact that he didn’t mention his girlfriend the entire night. Maybe that’s not weird. Phil should stop thinking about it. He can’t. 

He texts Bryony because he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t tell someone. 

_Dan’s asleep on my sofa._

She doesn’t reply right away and Phil knows he should sleep now. He has meetings in the morning. He’s been trying not to think about it and how he’ll have nothing to show for the months of waiting on him and that he’ll just be disappointing them again. 

He takes off his glasses and closes his eyes but his brain won’t be quiet. It’s full of everything Dan said tonight and all the things Phil wanted to say and everything Phil is scared of that comes with the morning. Bryony responds.

_What. The. Fuck._

_We got pizza,_ Phil says. Like it’s a good enough explanation. 

_didn’t u just get back from IOM?_

_Yeah_

_phil ……._

He knows exactly what she wants to say but won’t. He’s thinking it too. 

There’s too much in his brain. He wishes it would just SHUT UP for once. It never listens. Stupid brain. 

He wishes Dan were awake and that they could keep talking until the sun comes up. That would just make it worse though. Maybe. Maybe it would make it better. At least Phil wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. 

He thinks, stupidly, that maybe he could pull back the curtains on the window in his bedroom that actually has a nice view and… maybe, if he looked hard enough, he could see some stars. And maybe there’d be a star falling just for Phil. Shooting across in the sky in glitter and light. Then he could wish on it and he wouldn’t feel so useless lying in bed in his pants wishing for things he can’t control. And things he can but he’s too afraid to actually do anything about. 

But he remembers that this is London. There are no stars in this sky and shooting stars don’t just happen because you want them to. It’s annoying, Phil feels like he needs that shooting star. Or some good luck at least. 

He lives in this world in his head that tells him there is hope and possibility as long as you believe. Well, Phil has been believing for his whole goddamn life and barely anything has come of that. He’s had a few good years and he’s never been faced with an overwhelming amount of bad luck. Even though he did break that mirror that one time. He’s stocked up on enough good luck, he thinks, that it didn’t really matter. 

Fate is something Phil wishes he didn’t believe in. Because he thinks that he’s destined for a fate that’s probably ordinary and probably not what he really wants. It’s driving Phil mad if he’s honest. He doesn’t understand what the good is of believing in soulmates and love at first sight and shooting stars and destiny if he doesn’t get to have any of it. 

It sounds so selfish he’d never say it out loud. 

* 

Dan is there when Phil wakes up, his head stuck in Phil’s fridge. 

“Do you have coffee I can make somewhere?”

“Not in the fridge.” 

“Ha ha. You’re out of milk.” Dan shuts the fridge and leans against the counter. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Because he never went home, Phil remembers. And now he’s looking for coffee in Phil’s kitchen even though he could just as easily go upstairs to his own flat. 

The sun shines through the window and lands right on Dan. His own personal spotlight. He looks amazing. The soft creases under his eyes and the small smile on his face. Phil smiles back, too glad that Dan’s the first thing he sees after waking up. 

Phil can’t think like that. He reminds himself that Dan and him are just friends. Soulmates probably aren’t even a real thing. 

But the sun shines every day he sees Dan. And Phil can’t make himself believe that that doesn’t mean something. 

Phil goes to sit across from him at the breakfast bar. He stifles a yawn, “I meant to get some. I’m a little low on food after being out of town.” 

“I’ve got some upstairs.” 

“Oh okay.” Phil tries not to feel disappointed. Dan has to leave sometime. 

“You do have coffee, right?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He walks over to the cupboard where he keeps the Nescafe and pulls out the canister. 

Dan makes a noise, “You drink that? No wonder I couldn’t find it.” 

“Yeah, I’m a coffee pleb. What? You only drink some fancy dark roast or something?” Phil’s trying to make a joke but it comes out a little harsher than he meant it to. It’s not his fault he’s not a morning person. He needs coffee. 

Thankfully, Dan just laughs, “We met in a Starbucks, remember?” 

Phil rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Sorry it’s not up to your standards.” 

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t say I wouldn’t drink it.” He goes over to the door where he’d tossed his shoes last night and shoves his feet into them, “Just need milk. I’ll be right back.” And then he’s out the door. 

Oh. Phil was sure he’d just say goodbye and go have his own coffee in his own flat. 

But he’ll be right back, he just said so. This screams bad idea. Phil’s phone vibrates in his hoodie pocket. 

_loVer boi still there?_ Bryony asks. 

_Uh yeah and he’s staying for coffee._

Phil puts the kettle on to boil and pokes around in his fridge looking for something acceptable to eat for breakfast. He puts their wine glasses in the sink from the night before. Cleaning up just to give his hands something to do while he waits for Dan. 

His phone buzzes.

_wowwww philly! Look at you!_

He sends a side eye emoji. 

Bryony says, _what??? I’m just saying straight until proven otherwise…_

_I can’t get my hopes up again._

_one step at a time. also hey i’m not okay with him monopolizing my phil time. we still good for dinner and bake off tonight?_

_Yes! I miss you!!_

_ok good. lmk if anything ~progresses~_

_I hate you_

_love u too idiot_

He puts his phone away and gets to work making some toast. His toaster is kind of broken but if he pushes the lever to the left a little it stays just long enough for the bread to get brown. He looks around for something else to occupy his hands once the toast is done when there’s a knock at his door. 

It’s Dan back from upstairs holding some milk and a carton of eggs. He’s also wearing a different shirt and his hair is a little tamer. Phil wonders if he brushed his teeth and then remembers that he still hasn’t done that. 

Dan walks back into Phil’s space and makes a beeline for the kettle. He finishes what Phil started, making coffee for both of them. He wastes no time making himself at home. 

“You don’t have to do that. I can help,” Phil says. 

“No no no. You’ve done enough. You fed me and let me sleep on your sofa last night. I can make you breakfast.” 

Phil moves out of the way of the stovetop where Dan starts scrambling some eggs. “Oh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Also, I’m a little bit of a control freak. Just show me where you keep your spoons?” 

They eat Phil’s soft toast on the breakfast bar along with the eggs Dan makes. The coffee is too hot when Phil takes a sip but he relishes the warmth it spreads through his chest as the caffeine works its way into his veins. 

“Thanks for last night,” Dan says. 

Phil sets his mug back on the counter, “Yeah, it was fun.” 

“You don’t- You-” he stops, trying to get his words together. “You don’t have to hang out with me just because you feel bad.” 

Phil doesn’t understand. He shakes his head, “What do I have to feel bad about?”

“That you spilled coffee on my shirt.” 

“Your favorite shirt.” 

“Old favorite,” Dan corrects. “I just- You don’t have to, is all. I’m sure you have other friends and better things to do and an actual life-” 

“Dan, stop. I like hanging out with you.” 

Dan looks at him with eyes that say he wants to believe Phil but he isn’t sure how much to trust. Phil knows the feeling. 

He says, “I was serious. I never have fun like this. I’m usually so awkward. It’s weird. It’s so easy just to be with y- I mean, you’re great, Phil. Thanks.” 

Phil feels his cheeks get hot and works way too hard to suppress a grin he knows is already splitting across his face. “S’alright, Dan. It’s nice to have a friend, yeah?” 

Dan gives a small smile and shrugs, “I’ll get out of your hair soon.” 

Phil wishes he wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t understand it. One moment he’s cool and confident and everything Phil wants to be. The next he’s overthinking and double stepping back on all the progress they’ve made in… whatever this is. Their friendship. He doesn’t need to. Phil is in. He’s already way too invested in Dan and this thing that’s going on. He couldn’t let it go even if he wanted to. 

“I don’t mind you in my hair. We’re friends, yeah?” 

Dan looks hesitant, but he just says, “Okay. Friends.” 

Dan leaves soon after they finish breakfast. Phil has actual adult human work to do today and no amount of ignoring it will actually make it go away. He can’t cancel again. Not if he wants to keep his job that’s barely a job anway. 

He tells Dan he’ll see him later as he’s walking out the door. He’s only upstairs, Phil thinks. And they never got around to that Mario Kart rematch. He wonders if tomorrow is too soon to hang out again. 

Phil is starting to think that Dan is one of his worst ideas yet. Because as hard as he tries, he can’t stop fucking thinking about him. Even after he’s gone, Phil’s head is full of brown curls and warm eyes. Weirdly, he starts humming and realizes it’s Dan’s song. He’d only heard it once through the wall and yet there it is, making a home in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	5. Chapter 5

The office is too nice and clean and Phil is positive he’s going to spill his tea all over the carpet. Jen doesn’t drink coffee, sadly, so Phil settles for some barely caffeinated green tea. He dips the tea bag into the hot water over and over again just so he has something to do with his hands. Jen is talking about story structure or something, Phil hasn’t been listening for a while. His agent is a nice woman, Phil likes her well enough, but these meetings have always felt the opposite of productive, instilling even more self doubt in him than before. Jen believes in him, or she’s supposed to. But she’s always telling Phil that’s not enough if he doesn’t believe in himself. 

Which is a lot easier said when your career doesn’t depend on your ability to be good enough or better than or “fresh” as they say. 

All Jen has to do is have good taste. 

Phil guesses he should take it as a compliment, then, that she hasn’t dropped him yet. 

“You’re this close to a contract,” Jen says. She’s sitting with half her ass on the desk. Phil has never seen Jen actually sit in a chair normally. She moves around too much and needs space to talk with her hands. It reminds him of Dan. “You just have to give us a new idea. Something fresh.” 

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Phil hasn’t had a fresh idea since just after uni, back when storytelling was fun and didn’t feel so pretentious. 

“They love the comic, Phil. Bring them something like that and you’re set, mate.” She’s all casual, like this isn’t a business exchange. Phil has always liked that about her.

“I don’t have any ideas. Unless you think I can write 50,000 words about a sparrow named Fred.” He takes a sip of his tea. It burns his mouth and tastes like grass. He tries not to make a face. 

“I liked Fred.” 

“Me too. But he’s not good enough. Not for Dutton.” 

Jen slumps into her chair with her legs up on the desk. This is her thinking pose. “You know what else I liked?” She asks a little too confidently. 

He raises an eyebrow, “What?” 

She leans across the desk, hands clasped and eyes caught on Phil’s with a look that scares him. “The one about the boy.” 

He knows exactly which one she’s talking about. That idea had been rejected. It was one of his first rejections after moving out to London. It had crushed him. He really believed in it. 

She’s right. That could be a story. Not just for a comic, but something bigger than that. It’s already forming in his head. It’s a bit interesting, he could run with it and see where it goes, all it would take is an outline--

He stops. It’ll never be what he imagines. He’s not the writer Jen wishes he could be and he knows it. 

“I- I-” he stutters. 

“Phil,” Jen says. Her hand reaches out to rest on his wrist, his hand still grasping the too hot mug of tea. “You’re a good writer. Start with what you know. See where this goes.” She’s good at seeing when he doubts himself. That’s what makes her good at her job, he thinks. 

*

Dan left his milk in Phil’s fridge. He stares at it that afternoon as he’s scrounging for lunch. There’s barely any milk left but he still feels like he has to return it to Dan at some point. It’s only been a few hours since they saw each other at breakfast. Texting Dan is too desperate. He imagines Dan will immediately see through his mask and know that Phil’s just looking for an excuse to see him again. 

But he’s not. Phil isn’t clingy. He’s not obsessed or a stalker. He hasn’t even looked Dan up on Instagram yet. Maybe he’s trying to avoid being faced with more evidence of Dan being in a loving, long-term relationship with his girlfriend, but no one needs to know that. 

Phil shuts the fridge and decides to deal with the milk later. There’s no food in his flat and his stomach won’t stop making noises. He might as well go get his own milk while he has the time. 

*

Bryony comes over that evening with take away and too many questions. 

“He didn’t mention her at all?” she asks, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. 

Phil shrugs, dropping a piece of chicken for the millionth time. “Nope.” 

She hands him a plastic fork from the bag. “And he never mentioned her over the weekend?” 

He raises an eyebrow at the fork. “Single use plastic? I’m not a turtle murderer.” 

“You’re changing the subject.” 

“Climate change is real, Bry.” 

She tosses a piece of rice at his nose. “Fuck off. I know.” 

Phil shrugs but doesn’t respond. He’s not sure what Bry wants to hear. She saw him break down at the beginning of all this. Hope has no place here if Phil is just kidding himself. Which he usually is. She’s just bored. Phil’s new friend is more interesting than the episode of Bake-Off playing on the tv. Bry has always loved a good teen romance novel. 

Oh god, that can’t be what Phil’s life is turning into. 

“You know,” she breaks the silence. “They could have broken up?” 

There she goes. Back on her bullshit theories. 

Phil rolls his eyes, “It’s been, like, a week since he introduced me.” 

“Maybe that’s why they broke up.” 

“What the hell are you on about?” 

Her eyes go wide, she’s way too invested. “Come on, Phil. What if he likes you? What if that’s why they broke up? Because of you!”

Phil almost laughs. “That’s fucking ridiculous. I only just met him, Bry.” 

“He spent the night here,” she gives him a not-so-innocent look. 

“Yeah, on the couch.” 

This is dumb. Phil is stupid and Bryony just likes winding him up. It kind of hurts, though, that she’s using his life as personal entertainment. Because he wants it to be true. It’s just not. 

She sighs, letting go of the theatrics. “All I’m saying is, he seems to really like you.” 

Well, great, Phil thinks. Because Phil really likes him too but he can’t bloody do anything about it. Even if he wanted to. Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t. 

He scrunches his nose, trying to get his brain and thoughts to make sense or just slow down. “You’re not helping,” he says. “And I’m not a homewrecker.” 

“And you don’t fall for straight guys, right?” 

There’s that fondish look on her face. The one that makes Phil soft and less annoyed at her. It’s all a big joke until someone gets hurt and Phil has had too much practice in being let down to let any of it really get to him. 

“Nope,” he says and stuffs a forkful of rice in his mouth. 

It’s easier like this. Dan hasn’t texted him all day and that feels kind of good. Phil hasn’t been thinking about him. That much. Phil can exist for more than a few hours without Dan being a fixture in his brain. That’s fine, Phil is fine. He has work to do, an outline to write, other friends to see. Dan isn't a speed bump in his way. 

They eat just like that for a little while, on Phil’s sofa in his living room just like any other day. They’re completely silent through the baking technical because it always makes Phil nervous and he can’t deal with distractions. Bryony’s helping him clean up the take away trash when she speaks again. 

She clears her throat, “Er, Jon’s having a game night on Thursday.” 

It catches Phil off guard. He says, “Oh?” 

“You wanna go?” She’s almost timid about it, which makes sense. Phil hasn’t been to one of Jon’s game nights since they, well. You know. 

“You’re going?” 

She nods. “You don’t have to.” 

“But you want me to.” She wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t want him to. Phil knows Jon has game nights almost every other week, but Bry never brings it up, even if she goes, and Phil never asks about them. It’s easier. 

“I just.. think it might be good for you.” 

His throat closes up. Like embarrassment or something similar that he hates. “You said I should get laid-” 

“When did I say that?” 

“The other week. About Dan, before I found out he’s-” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t think you should come just so you can sleep with Jon.” 

“But I can sleep with Jon… _ and  _ interact with other humans. Is that it?” It’s harsh and Phil knows it. She’s trying to look out for him. It would be better if she just wouldn’t. 

“You don’t have to sleep with anyone, Phil,” she says it flat and slow like she’s talking to a toddler. It’s not entirely unprecedented. Phil is sort of acting like one. 

“Okay,” he says and stands up from the sofa to take the plastic bag filled with their trash to the kitchen to throw away. Bryony stays sitting where she’s at and picks up his remote to mess with his tv settings. Again, like she lives here or something. 

He’s irritable and he doesn’t know why. But something in him starts hot and keeps getting hotter at the idea that Bryony thinks she needs to manage him. Phil knows he’s a mess, he doesn’t need any reminders. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. 

Sometimes he thinks the only reason she comes over here for dinners is to make sure he’s eating. There was one week about a year ago when he was working on one of his biggest projects and he did actually forget about food. But that was then and he’s a bit more settled now and sometimes she’s just too nosy for her own good. 

He loves her, he's glad for her company, but. Right now there's nothing he wants more than to be alone. 

* 

Dan knocks on his door some time later. Bryony is still on Phil’s couch trying to convince him to watch an anime that looks a bit too kinky for his taste. 

Phil smiles as soon as the door’s open. Dan is smiling too, goofy and a bit clipped at the sides like he’s nervous. Everything Bryony said before is there at the forefront of Phil’s mind. 

All words disappear from his brain. 

“Hi,” Dan says. 

“Um, er, hey,” Phil replies after a dumb moment of staring at Dan’s collarbones. His tshirt is cut low and shows off an extra part of Dan that challenges Phil's restraint in every physical, mortal way. 

“I, uh, forgot my milk in your fridge.” Oh yeah, Phil had forgotten. He hadn’t really. He was just spending too much time actively not thinking about Dan and if he should text Dan about his milk - which Dan left in Phil’s fridge. 

Dan continues, “I would have just gone to get more, but Lacey’s making brownies or some shit and needs milk right now or else it’s gonna… set? Too soon? I don’t know anything about baking.” 

Phil thinks,  _ your girlfriend’s name sounds like someone I would pretend to fancy back in school when I was being not gay.  _

Phil says, “Oh, yeah. There’s not much left, I didn’t know if you’d want the rest. I didn’t drink it or, uh, use it for brownies.” 

Dan giggles, “Thanks, mate.” Phil presses his fingernails into his palm at the sound, not too hard, just to keep him from doing something stupid. 

“I’ll get it for you.” 

He goes back into the kitchen, leaving the front door open. Bryony leans over the back of the sofa. She whisper-yells, “Who the fuck is that?” 

“Uh, Dan is here, Bry.” 

Dan, not at all out of hearing distance, pokes his head and half of himself into Phil’s flat. “Hi?” 

Bryony waves, smiling like a proud mum, “Hi Dan.” 

Phil has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He shoves his head inside the fridge, letting the cold air calm some of the anxiety bubbling up in his chest. 

With the milk in hand, he shuts the fridge carefully - his mum always used to yell about slamming it - and turns to see Dan fully stood in his kitchen, awkwardly smiling back at Bryony. 

“Oh. Introductions. Dan, this is my friend Bryony. Bry, this is Dan. He lives upstairs.” 

“Hi, Dan. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

That seems to scare Dan a little based off the look on his face, “Oh? I hope all good things?” 

Bry smiles like the evil villain she was put in Phil’s life to be, “Oh, mostly, I suppose.”

Dan laughs a little, raising an eyebrow at Phil, “Mostly?” 

He should’ve known. Bry is a force to be reckoned with, Dan is too. Phil is the odd one out, actually. Any challenge Bry might throw him - Dan can probably take on easily. Thinking about it now and having them both looking at him in too similar ways, they’re actually not that different of people. Phil wonders how much that can be a coincidence. His best friend and this person he hopes is a new friend being so alike. Or if it just makes sense. 

He shrugs, “Mostly.” It’s all he can think to say. 

He hands Dan the milk in the least interesting way possible and follows him back over to the door. 

“Well, nice to meet you - Bryony, right?” 

She’s come to stand behind Phil, just out of the doorway. He feels awkward with her standing over his shoulder but there’s nothing to do about it now. 

“Likewise,” she says. 

“Gotta get back to brownies?” Phil wants to ask him to stay. But there’s an echo in his head reminding him that Lacey is upstairs and Lacey is Dan’s girlfriend and Phil does not fall for straight boys. And asking Dan to stay in front of Bryony will just further prove that he actually cares. 

“Er, yeah. Thanks for the milk.” 

He’s about to go, but Bryony steps in just as. “Wait, Dan. You like games, yeah?” 

He turns back, head turned around his body in a weird twisted way. “Yes?” 

Phil knows what she’s after and he desperately wants to tell her to stop. But Bry is a force and Phil is just a guy, grasping at straws to try and make this not one of the most awkward moments of his life. 

He looks at Bry, tries to plead with her with just the look in his eyes. She sees it, he knows she does, and she barrels forward. “Would you want to come to a game night with us? It’s of the board and video variety.”

Dan hesitates, “Um…” 

“There’s drinks too,” she insists. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Phil play DDR while drunk.” 

Phil groans. 

Dan smirks, “Well, that I have to see. When is it?” 

“Brilliant. Phil can text you the details.” Bry smiles brightly. She couldn’t be more pleased with herself. And Phil can’t stand it. 

Dan leaves towards the stairs, the carton of milk cradled in his left arm. 

Phil turns to Bryony. “What have you done now?” 

“I’m doing you a favor, trust me.” 

“You don’t have to meddle. Let me be lonely and unhappy in peace.” 

She frowns, real and full of disapproval because she doesn’t like it when Phil says things like that. “Never.” 

* 

Phil can’t sleep. That’s not a new development. He tried to write before bed which left him restless and wondering. He looks at the clock. 

It’s Dan’s favorite time of day. He wonders if he’s awake. 

On impulse, he texts Jon a little flirty text about coming to game night. He thinks maybe Bry was a little right about it being good for him to be seeing other people right now. He’s been living in his head for ages what with the writer’s block and all his overthinking. 

It’s not good for him to live in his head for too long, he knows. But it’s just easier. 

Some things are easier for Phil than others but life doesn’t always work for him in the easy ways. Which is annoying, but a fact he’s accepted. 

Still, he tries to live in the easy things. Avoiding the harder things. Bryony doesn’t let him get by like that. Doesn’t let him get by while he’s hidden, detached, comfortable. It’s not a life, she tells him. 

Phil just can’t get his head around crossing the street without looking, which Bryony calls tempting fate. Let fate work itself out, he thinks. 

*

He wakes up to sun and clouds on Thursday morning. No rain, but the app on his phone says there’s a thunderstorm later. Whatever that means, he doesn't know and is too exhausted from so many anxious days to care. 

He rolls over and goes back to sleep. Because he’s predictable and it’s easier and his bed is too comfortable. 

All his confusion and self doubt and worry and overthinking will still be there when he wakes up. He has a feeling it's going to be a long night, it'll be nice to get a few extra hours of sleep this morning. Not that he slept much at all the night before. 

His phone buzzes once. Twice. He kicks out his leg and arm to get more comfortable and shift out of the way of the sun shining in through the blinds. His phone gets shoved off the bed from under his pillow. He hears it thunk onto the floor. He wonders if it's cracked. That wouldn't be too off brand for him. 

His eyelids fall heavy in that second wave of morning sleep that always comes with the best and worst kind of dreams. And he stops thinking altogether. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	6. Chapter 6

Phil is all of a sudden questioning every single fashion decision he has ever made. It’s not like he’s the most on-trend, but he has a style and it’s thought out enough that most days he rarely second guesses his outfit choices. He’s been in sweatpants all day, avoiding putting on real clothes until the moment he has to. That moment has come. And all he can do is stare at his wardrobe. 

The array of shirts hanging in front of him are too colorful, too childlike. Not at all what he wants to wear for game night. The button up shirt hanging off his shoulders was too formal and the tshirts lying on the floor around him after being tried on and rejected all felt too casual. 

It’s never been like this before. The self doubt has always been there. The overthinking too. But this, second guessing what kind of fabric looks best on his barely average body, that’s new. He doesn’t know what to do with it. 

His phone buzzes with texts from Bryony. Which he ignores. He already knows he’s late, he doesn’t need her to remind him. 

In the back of his head he wishes his mum were here to just pick out an outfit for him. He pushes it aside as soon as it enters his head. Stupid. He’s a fucking adult, he should be able to dress himself and get to a party on time. Or late, but intentionally. Arriving too early and having to endure awkward small talk with Jon sounds terrible. He’d rather miss the first round of Mario Kart. 

It’s getting ridiculous. His bedroom is now a complete mess of clothes, so much so that he can barely see the carpet underneath the mountain of shirts. He never realized how many shirts he owns with animals on them until now. 

He picks out a jumper from the pile. It’s black with a rainbow bird on the front. He doesn’t hate it. It’s not as colorful or loud as the other things he’s tried on, but it still feels like Phil. His shoulders look nice in it at least. It’s not like there’s a reason for him to care this much. There’s no one at this party he really needs to impress. He’s not trying to sleep with Jon tonight. He’s not trying to sleep with anyone tonight. But he does care. It’s jolting. 

Whatever. He pulls on some black jeans and flicks his fingers at his hair for a minute before deciding it looks fine and sprays some extra hairspray to feel like he’s done something. 

Looking at himself in the mirror, he looks like a regular human. Even if his face is a bit alien-like. But that’s interesting and weird, he likes interesting and weird. He likes that his hair is dark and quiffed and he dresses a bit like a cartoon character. Because behind it all, the Phil he still sees behind the bold outline he’s drawn of himself, there’s nothing noticeable about him. Nothing interesting. He’s plain, with boring brown hair and a regular face and too long legs that he constantly trips over. He’s not the kind of person someone picks out in a crowd. And for whatever innate reason that’s been ingrained in him since birth, he wants to be seen. Not for attention or to be the hottest guy in the room. He just wants to exist and be known and be liked. 

At parties like this, his insecurities rear their big ugly heads and make him hide away in a corner. He’s too awkward, too anxious, too weird. And he’s not enough, at least not enough of whatever it is people want to see. That’s what his brain tells him anyway.

He looks fine. It shouldn’t matter, he likes his face and his clothes and his friends do too. He tells himself to stop worrying, just go and have fun like a normal person. Normal is boring, he reminds himself. Even though he sometimes wishes he was more of it. 

His phone buzzes again. He grabs it from his pocket as he’s walking out the door, ready to tell Bryony off for babying him. It’s not Bryony though, it’s Dan. 

_ sorry i’m probably gonna be late to this thing  _

Phil replies,  _ Dw me too.  _

He’s halfway out the door when he stops and wonders again if he should go change. A jumper might be too warm and black is sort of Dan’s color of choice to wear and would it be weird for him to wear black too? 

There’s no logic to it. Phil’s brain isn’t a brain of logic. Sometimes he hates that. 

All his overthinking about what he looks like, all the self doubt, it’s not about Dan, he tells himself. Not everything he thinks these days has to be about Dan. 

* 

It’s not really a party. It’s just a bunch of nerds piled in Jon’s flat to play board games and argue over Catan tournaments. His flat is a good size for these sorts of things, Phil doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the amount of people or how much space he takes up with his too-long legs. 

Bryony is there in the middle of a heated game of Scrabble when Phil arrives. She’s got a glass of something pink in her hand and a manic smile plastered on her face. The woman goes crazy for Scrabble. Phil passes by, giving a wave to the table and Bryony a kiss on her cheek. 

She smiles at him, “You came!” 

“Yep!” She keeps smiling and he smiles a little back before retreating to the kitchen to get himself something to drink. Literally liquid courage. He doesn’t need to get drunk, just chilled out. He hasn’t seen Dan or Jon yet and he’s going to need all the chill he can muster up to handle those interactions tonight. 

He downs half of the first thing he pours and refills the glass to the top with something he knows is sweeter. He takes his drink and his false confidence and makes his way to the living room where a clump of people is situated around the tv. They’re playing some Mario Party minigames that Phil would rather watch than play so he finds himself a place on the floor, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out where there’s space. It’s not hiding, it’s just that he slots perfectly into place here, almost completely unseen. 

His spot is nice and secluded for a while. He distracts himself with the color flashing across the tv screen and the warmth spreading from his stomach to his brain.

Then he sees Jon kneeling down in front of him with his weird half-smile. “Hey Phil.” 

“Jon. What a great party,” is all he can think to say. 

“S’just game night. Same as all the others. What are you doing anyway?” He tilts his head at Phil like a really cute dog. Jon is cute in an ordinary way. An easy-to-look-at way. 

Phil lifts his glass ceremoniously. “Finding my chill.” 

Jon leans to sit down next to him against the wall, his arm pressed to Phil’s. “Bryony told me you were coming. I didn’t believe her,” he says quietly, less confident than he was before. 

“Here I am.” 

He makes a weird laugh-choke sound and turns to give Phil very intense eye contact. Jon’s green eyes boring into Phil’s soul and trying to learn all his secrets. “Yeah. Here you are.” 

Phil doesn’t meet his gaze. 

Phil isn’t drunk, he’s barely tipsy. But he doesn’t really want to talk to Jon. Acting like his brain is barely functioning is an easy excuse to get out of having a real conversation. Jon seems to catch this as Phil leans slightly to the right so that their arms don’t touch. It’s a bit rude, maybe. But it’s also not. Jon is too close and Phil doesn’t want to worry about sending the wrong message or doing something stupid. He doesn’t want to sleep with Jon tonight. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again. Because it would be fun. Phil hasn’t had fun like that in too fucking long. But just because it could be fun and Phil would probably have a good time doesn’t mean Phil actually wants to have sex. He doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t. Keeping a safe distance from this guy isn’t because Phil doesn’t trust him, but more because Phil doesn’t trust himself to know the difference. 

Jon has always been a really nice guy. That’s why Phil has been able to have this casual thing with him in the past. Jon never asks for anything more from him, and neither does Phil. They have a nice time, Phil doesn’t have to sleep alone for one night, and he doesn’t regret it the next day. It was easy. It was a means to an end. It’s not what Phil wants anymore. 

Phil mumbles, “Sorry.” He’s not sure what for. For being weird, or for not being able to actually explain any of that to him. 

Jon’s expression changes for a second to some kind of concern, “What?” In that moment, he actually looks like a guy Phil could talk to. 

But then, from out of the corner of his eye, Phil sees Dan and Lacey walk through the door. Lacey looks just as nice as she did on the day Phil met her. Nice and normal and pretty. She’s holding Dan’s hand. Dan looks like Dan. Which means he looks great. Phil’s brain does the predictable thing and latches onto the sight of him like a magnet. Jon is still looking at Phil like a genuine conversation is going to be had. Phil feels kind of bad, but the guy is just too eager. 

Phil thinks Dan and Lacey look a little lost and then remembers that he invited them and they don’t actually know anyone here. 

He shakes his head at Jon, “Nothing.” And gets up to greet them. 

*

Dan lights up as soon as he spots Phil. And that does nothing to quiet the screaming going on in Phil’s head. Lacey looks happy to see him too, at least he hopes. He’s not sure if he would notice if she looked unhappy. She has a pretty neutral face as far as Phil can tell. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Dan jokes. 

Phil ignores him and turns to Lacey, “Nice to see you, Lacey. And, Dan? Was it?” 

Dan rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” 

“Thought so,” Phil grins. 

Lacey bounces on her toes. She’s a bit short, Phil and Dan’s conversation exists at least a few inches above her head. “Thanks for inviting us, Phil. Dan’s always complaining about how we don’t have any friends.” 

“I do not,” Dan says, bumping her shoulder. “You have friends, I’m the loser.” 

She smiles sweetly, “You hate my friends.” 

“They’re loud.” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, says you,” Lacey says jokingly. 

Their back and forth is cute. Phil feels that familiar bitter twist in his gut and hates himself for it. 

“Well, we’re here to make new friends, yeah?” Dan puts on a smile that Phil has never seen before. It looks like a face Phil would only make in a job interview. Dan looks like a cardboard cutout doing it. He has the urge to wipe it off his face like chalk. “Show us around, Phil.” 

Phil gives them a stationary tour, gesturing to each room from where they’re stood by the door. "It’s all come and go. There are no specific rules. Oh, and the drinks are in the kitchen through there. Feel free to help yourself.”

“You come here a lot?” Lacey asks. 

“Not much anymore,” Phil replies. “Jon works with Bryony, my best mate. He started having these about a year ago and I’d come every now and then. It’s pretty fun.” He doesn’t mention that the reason he doesn’t come anymore is because he hooked up with Jon a few too many times and it all started to get weird. Because Lacey and Dan probably don’t need to know those details. 

Lacey looks up at Dan. “What do you want to do first?”

They go to check out the end of the Scrabble game Bryony’s playing, waiting to get in on whatever is played next. Lacey says Dan plays too many video games alone at home. They leave Phil alone in the hallway. He doesn’t feel like following them around all night. 

He can see most of the room through the doorway from where he stands in the hall. He sees Lacey introduce herself to Bryony and Dan attempting to make the introductions before Lacey takes over. She looks like a proper adult doing it. She doesn’t look as awkward as Phil would feel. And Dan stands next to her, dutiful and quiet with his hand on the small of her back. That fake smile plastered on his face, unchanging. 

That’s probably unfair, to call it fake. Phil doesn’t even know him well enough to know every iteration and color of Dan’s smiles. But he’s seen enough of the real ones to know this is different. Maybe he’s being paranoid and too perceptive. Dan is just existing with his girlfriend at a party, he doesn’t need Phil analyzing his every move. 

So Phil looks away from them. He’s being weird just standing here in the hall with his hands in his pockets. He realizes he left his drink in the living room, but really doesn’t feel like going back to get it and possibly running into Jon again. Maybe he should just leave. He doesn’t want to play any of the games and suddenly it all feels too weird to be here. He barely remembers the names of half of the people here and it makes him feel fucking alone. To be surrounded by people and have no one. Not even Bryony, who actually gets on with these people and always says the right things to make people laugh. 

Phil doesn’t have that. He wants that. Even after all these years of knowing and loving Bry, none of her charisma has rubbed off on him. It wasn’t good enough to learn just by association. He’s got empty fucking hands and an empty apartment to go home to and dumb empty childish dreams. 

Unconsciously, he looks up to the ceiling like it’ll make him closer to something. He thinks,  _ Thanks, universe. I’ve followed all your rules and you’ve still given me nothing. Thanks a lot.  _

He looks back down to where everyone is gathered in the other room. But Dan is stood beside him in the hall now. 

“Something interesting up there?” 

“What?” Phil asks dumbly, still a bit confused as to why Dan is standing there when he should be in the other room with Lacey. 

Dan points. “The ceiling.”

Well. Dan caught him staring at the ceiling. Which is terrible and awkward and Phil wishes he could magically turn invisible in this moment. “Oh. No. Just, looking,” is all he musters. 

Dan looks up at the same spot. “It’s a good ceiling.” 

“Yep, good and… structural.” Phil cringes.

Dan looks back at him and smirks, “Is that a euphemism? 

Phil splutters, “What? No! I just meant… I don’t know, it’s structural!” He could just tell Dan he was trying to communicate with a greater being of the universe through the ceiling. But that would probably be worse. No, that would definitely be worse. 

“Whatever you say, Lester.” Dan chuckles. There’s a real smile on his face now. Phil wants to take a picture to save and compare to the other one. But that’s fucking weird. 

Instead, he decides to do everything he can to make this smile stay. 

“Shit,” Phil says. “I need a drink.” He realizes too late that he hadn’t actually meant to say so out loud. 

Dan taps his nose twice and points at Phil with his eyebrows raised. “Good thinking.” 

* 

Dan stands next to him in the kitchen as he pours his drink into a cup full of ice. The games continue in the adjacent room, but Phil isn’t thinking about them. The lights in here are brighter than the ones in the hall and he’s properly seeing Dan for the first time in a few days. 

Dan turns to him with the cup in his hand. “Cheers?” 

Phil just stares for a half a second, his brain a little too slow. It’s getting worse. Dan was beautiful to Phil the moment he met him and he has been every day since. But he sees it so clearly here. These white bulbs only bring out more of the bumps and wrinkles in Dan’s face. He’s so human here. Phil can hardly stand it. He's not an ordinary kind of beautiful. Not like Jon. Dan is nothing like Jon. 

He taps his glass against Dan’s. “Cheers.” They drink. 

Dan sets his cup back down and pushes his hair off his forehead a little, just fidgeting. Phil notices an eyelash that’s fallen onto Dan’s cheek. 

“Hey, you have something.” Phil points to his own cheek. 

Dan frowns, “Oh god. What? Where?” He brushes his left hand over the wrong cheek. It makes Phil laugh. 

“It’s just an eyelash, you’re fine. But, no. Other side.” Dan tries in vain and Phil can’t help but laugh at him frantically wiping at his face. “Here, just.” He pushes Dan’s hands aside, “Let me.” 

He doesn’t stop to think about it. He reaches his index finger up to Dan’s cheek and catches the eyelash onto the tip of his finger. Phil thinks if this were some kind of movie, this moment would happen in weird half-slow motion. There’s a tugging in his gut, a pulling that starts high in his throat and ends up low in his stomach. Dan’s cheek is soft and the skin under his eye is too. It’s the same as any other cheek, he guesses. But suddenly their faces are close and that’s new and Phil can’t handle it. He’s not drunk yet, he shouldn’t be feeling stupid like this. 

“Thanks,” Dan croaks. His eyes landing on Phil’s hesitantly. They’re both awkward. 

Phil holds his finger out to Dan, “Make a wish.” 

Dan quirks an eyebrow, “Huh?” 

“You don’t know?” Dan shakes his head. “You get a wish. Make your wish and then blow it.” 

“Blow it?” 

Phil tries not to feel childish as he says it. “Yeah. You blow it. Come on, you have to. It’s bad luck if you don’t.” 

Dan shrugs, “Okay.” He closes his eyes and thinks for a long moment, tapping a finger on the counter. When his eyes open, Phil holds out the eyelash to him again. Dan makes his wish and Phil beams. Dan smiles brightly back. 

“Fun, yeah?” 

Dan says, “You’re weird, Phil.” 

Phil's stomach drops. Coming from Dan, it sounds like the best compliment he's ever received. It’s too fond and too sincere. Maybe the universe was listening before, he thinks. He feels a little bad for all his self pity. But no one has ever said that to Phil the way Dan just had. It catches Phil in a feeling he doesn’t know what to name. 

He shakes it off. “Well, what’d you wish for?” 

“I’m not supposed to tell you, am I? It won’t come true that way, duh.” 

Phil grins, “Oh, yeah. Forgot that bit.” 

*

Phil doesn’t get drunk often. But something in him changes when he sees the rate at which Dan is swallowing down drinks. Keeping up with Dan becomes his new mission in life. He loses track of how many drinks he has and what it is he’s drinking. He’s probably just tipsy, not  _ drunk _ drunk, but it’s been so long since Phil’s drank like this that he wouldn’t even know the difference. The more Dan drinks, the redder his cheeks get and the louder his voice goes as he yells at Phil, “Get out of my way, you fucking spoon! I’ve got a red shell and Princess Peach is up my ass!” 

They sort of hijack the Mario Kart tournament. Not on purpose, but people lose interest when Dan wins every game and Phil isn’t too far behind. His place in the races gets worse and worse the more he drinks and the less control he has over his fingers on the controller. Dan plays like his life depends on it. Sometimes Phil’s gaze wanders over to Dan’s side of the screen and he watches in awe as Dan’s little character expertly maneuvers through each track. Phil’s guy runs off the road each time he does it. 

“Phil! Fucking pay attention!” Dan yells. 

“I got shelled!” he lies. 

It goes on like this for an hour, or maybe two. Phil can’t really tell. Lacey comes over to watch them play at one point, but she’s less smiley than she had been. Phil wonders if it’s because he’s stolen her boyfriend away. But that’s a stupid thought so he ignores it. 

It’s late and Bryony has already gone home when Dan says, “We have to play DDR.” 

“No,” Phil protests, his words slurring together. “I’m not drank enough.” 

Dan huffs a laugh, “You’re  _ drank _ plenty, dumb dumb. Come on, please! You promised.” 

“Uh, dunno? Doesn’t sound like me?” He genuinely can’t remember if that’s something he’d actually done. 

Dan goes to find Jon and the two of them pull out the mat together. 

The thing is, Dan is actually really good at the game. He seems to be good at everything, actually. He’s got to be bad at something. Maybe he’s a terrible sock-folder. Phil can fold his socks pretty damn good when he does it at all. 

Dan shoves Phil into the center of the room to play his turn. He stares at the screen and the flashing arrows and tries to move his feet the right ways. Everything is too blurry. He wonders if maybe one of his contact lenses has fallen out. He reaches to touch his eye, but then remembers that this is just what being drunk is like. 

The music is so loud and it’s good and Dan is laughing behind him, so it’s all okay. Even if he’s making a fool of himself, it feels good. He can't stop thinking that Dan thinks Phil's weird and he's not put out by it, he actually seems to like it. 

Phil ’s not good at the game at all. He misses half the jumps and barely keeps in time with the music, his arms flailing around with no purpose. But it’s fun, the most fun he’s had in a while.

“Fuck, Phil,” Dan cackles behind him. “You’ve got no fucking rhythm.” 

“I know! I warned you!” 

He finishes the song with a D, which he’ll take. 

Dan says, “Let’s do one together!” 

“What? There’s only one mat.” 

“Yeah, you take right and down. I’ll do left and up.” 

They try and fail miserably, stepping on each other’s feet and bumping shoulders the whole time. Phil almost trips over his own feet at one point, but Dan rights him with a hand on his shoulder. Phil feels the weight of it grounding him and thinks of some dumb Taylor Swift lyrics that probably exist about moments like this. They keep stumbling around the mat, pushing each other out of their own way and laughing the whole time. They don’t even finish the song, falling onto the sofa behind them in a tangle of limbs before it’s done. 

Phil slides onto the floor, Dan next to him. 

“Good job, mate.” 

Phil laughs, “We barely got through the song.” 

Dan shrugs, “It was fucking fun though.” 

Phil shakes his head. 

“What? Was it not fun?” 

“Of course it was fun.” 

Dan pushes against Phil’s shoulder. “Then why’re you shaking your head?” 

“You’re so dumb. You’re awful and I hate you.” 

Dan’s smile goes wider. “Liar.” 

Dan’s right. Phil’s lying straight through his teeth. He doesn’t seem to mind though. 

*

Jon stops Phil as he’s leaving for the night. 

“Phil. Are we okay?” 

Phil feels lighter than he has in months. It’s easy saying, “Yeah, Jon. We’re great. Thanks for the great party.” 

Jon nods, “Sure. Glad you had a good time.” He looks over to Dan when he says it. Phil doesn’t get why, but he doesn’t think too hard about it. “Good to meet your new friends.” 

Phil feels like he should give him a high five or a clap on the back or something that mates do. But they aren’t really mates and Phil isn’t that kind of person. So he just smiles. A real and grateful smile. Jon has always been nice, even when Phil hasn’t given him a very good reason to be. 

*

They stumble home together with Lacey’s steady feet leading the way. Phil didn’t see her drink anything the whole night, but he wasn’t really focused on her all that much. Phil tries to walk a little ways behind her and Dan. It seems like the right thing to do. He’d taken over most of Dan’s attention at the party and Lacey was left to fend for herself in a group of strangers. Not that she really needed help, at least it didn’t seem like it to Phil. 

But he always gets in trouble when he starts assuming things. His brain is too foggy to know what to believe. 

Dan asks, looking back to where Phil is walking, “Do you wish on shooting stars too, Phil?” 

Phil hums, “Yeah.” 

“Just like the eyelash?” 

He nods. 

Dan stops at their street to wait for the light to change. “Why?” 

“Because they might come true,” he says like it’s obvious. It is to Phil. It always has been. He blames it on his mum, mostly. Her superstitions were practically ritualistic for them growing up. Phil never had a hard time believing any of it. It has always been true to him. He doesn’t need to see something to know it’s there. There’s just a feeling. A feeling Phil has never been able to say no to. 

Dan looks at him, has been looking at him for the whole minute they’ve stood at the crosswalk. Phil meets his eyes. It’s a brave thing to do. Because there’s more to it than there should be, he knows. 

His brain can’t work out if it’s the right thing to do. 

Lacey goes as soon as the light changes. Dan turns away to follow her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

For days, nothing happens. He’s hungover after board game night because life in his 20s is just that wild. But then, he works and makes himself lunch and works some more and watches tv and stares out the window. It goes just like that, day after day. He forgets he has friends part of the way through the weekend. Because he hasn’t talked to Bryony since Thursday, but that happens sometimes. They’re adults, they have shit to do. She hasn’t forgotten him. But in the back of Phil’s mind he still wonders if he’s done something wrong, if she’s cross with him for a reason he doesn’t know. That’s the anxiety talking. They’re both just busy with life. Busy trying to make it a life worth having. 

Still, he’s too worried about the made-up thing he hasn’t done wrong to text her. There’s a lot he wants to talk to her about. Dan, for one thing. Lacey, for another. Jon, maybe a bit. But mostly that Phil actually has an outline for a story that has a beginning, middle, and end. Something he can sit down and write. That’s what he’s been doing for the past few days locked up in his apartment. That’s what he’s been _trying_ to do anyway. He hasn’t had the stomach to go back and read through it yet to see if it’s any good. 

He’s never written this way before. It’s exciting to have a story under his fingertips that’s started to flow out of him without hesitation. There’s so many words and his fingers sometimes can’t move fast enough to get them down. 

Maybe he doesn’t have to worry about being dried out anymore. He’s got something. Hopefully it’s fresh and good and people will actually want to read it. To spend money on it even. He’s not going to jinx it. Not now when things are going so well. 

He takes a break halfway through the day to do some laundry. It’s the worst task in the world and a thing Phil would rather never do again if he had the option. He’d rather buy new clothes every time he runs out of clean ones, but that’s super wasteful and he’s too sentimental. One day he’ll invent a machine to do it all for him. Or maybe, if all goes to plan, one day he’ll be rich enough to pay someone else to take care of his dirty clothes. 

He’d rather wash dishes or clean his toilet or hoover the whole flat or completely rearrange all of his furniture. Laundry makes his head hurt. 

He’s sitting on top of the dryer in the basement of his building when Dan walks in holding a hamper full of mostly black clothes. He looks surprised to see Phil there. It’s funny, they should really stop being surprised at how often they run into each other. They live in the same building, just a floor between them. But still, Phil almost can’t believe it’s Dan for a second. It’s weird to see him here and in person after days of silence. The last time they hung out is all a bit fuzzy. He remembers everything, but. He’s not sure if he remembers it the same way Dan does. 

“Hi.” 

Dan leans his basket onto the machine next to Phil. “Hey. Uhh. What are you doing here?” 

“Laundry?” 

Dan shakes his head. “Right, ‘course. Sorry, I’m not all here today.” He squints his eyes a few times and doesn’t look at Phil. He makes no move to start messing with the laundry. 

Phil clears his throat, “You alright, mate?” 

Dan looks up. His eyes are unfocused and darting all around the room. “Huh?” 

It’s weird. But they’ve both always been a bit weird. He seems off. Phil isn’t sure if he should be worried or not. 

He slides off his seat and walks over to stand in front of Dan. He leaves a few feet of space just in case. In case of what, he’s not sure. But he feels like it’s the right thing to do, especially in this room which is small and dark and kind of creepy. 

Dan finally looks at him. 

“You okay?” asks Phil. 

Dan chuckles, but it’s not funny. “Ha. Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” 

Each word is clipped and a little harsh as it lands. He almost sounds angry. 

Phil tilts his head, not letting Dan off so easily. “Dan. Come on.” 

Dan huffs. He looks away again, down at his feet like there’s something really interesting about his shoes. They’re cool shoes. But Phil would rather look at Dan, who’s tugging at his lip with his teeth and looks like he’s about to break or burst or crumple into a lump on the floor. 

He reaches out to him, just to try, but stops his hand an inch from Dan’s shoulder. Dan keeps looking down. 

Phil tries again, “Did something happen?” 

He has no idea how to handle something like this. But it seems that it’s something he’s decided to try. 

Dan shrugs, huffs again, and runs a wild hand through his hair - pulling at the curls. It looks like it hurts. 

He says, “I- I- Look, I didn’t know we had free laundry here because I didn’t read the whole thing about amenities and I went to a fucking laundromat and- and- It was fucking awful, okay?” 

It might be funny if Dan were acting any other way, but he’s not. And Phil gets it. He’s had his fair share of experiences at London laundromats and none of them have been good.

Dan continues, “It’s just… I feel so fucking useless. It’s just laundry and I’m an adult. It shouldn’t be this hard. Why are there so many buttons? The first machine I tried ate up all my money. Anyway, I rang Lacey and she called me an idiot. She’d read about the amenities, I guess. So now I’m here, acting like a twat.” 

“You’re not a twat,” Phil says. 

“Maybe. But I am an idiot. Like, most of the time.” 

Phil feels a twist in his gut. Something like defense. For Dan and the fact that he isn’t an idiot. Maybe Lacey was joking. Maybe Dan does this a lot. She’s not his mother. It’s just - Phil gets called an idiot by Bryony on the daily, but never in moments like the one Dan is in. Not when he looks so close to the edge of something. 

Phil lets his hand fall on Dan’s shoulder. “You’re not an idiot.” 

Dan’s eyes flick up at Phil. He’s far away. He says, “I’m sorry.” 

“What for? Don’t apologize.” 

“You just came down here to do your laundry. I’m a mess, you didn’t ask for this.” 

Phil shakes his head, “Dan. We’re friends, yeah?” 

Dan nods. 

“It’s okay.” 

If Phil didn’t know any better, he’d say Dan looks like he’s about to cry. Phil selfishly really hopes he doesn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do if he did. He’d probably cry too. 

Dan takes a shaky breath, “It’s been a shit day.” 

Phil pats the top of the dryer where he’d been sat. “Here. Sit. Tell me about it.” 

Dan tilts his head at Phil. “Aren’t we meant to be doing laundry?” 

“I’ll take care of the laundry. You just sit.” 

Dan huffs, “I’m not going to let you do my fucking laundry for me, Phil.” 

And the truth is, Phil really doesn’t want to. His clothes are about a minute from being done. He could go, leave Dan alone to unravel everything that’s twisted up inside of him. Phil could return to his flat and go back to hiding from all of the conflicting thoughts and feelings that come with being in a small space with Dan. But he can’t leave him like this. He feels oddly responsible for him. It’s dumb. 

He should go. For his own sake, for the sake of his head and his heart, he shouldn’t let himself get this much closer to Dan. Because it’s going to suck when he can’t hide from his feelings anymore. It’s going to hurt more than it ever has before when he pretends like he doesn’t mind that Dan is straight and taken and not in love with him. Phil can’t go down that road. It isn’t fair. 

But Phil’s an idiot, just like Dan. And he’s never known how to be selfish. 

There’s a lot of things he shouldn’t do when it comes to Dan. But. He knows he’ll just do them anyway. In a lot of ways, it’s just something he’s meant for. And there’s nothing he can do about that. 

Dan sits on top of the dryer while Phil sorts his laundry. It’s easy, since it’s all mostly dark shades of gray and black. There’s some white pieces here and there, but probably not enough for a proper wash. 

“I never used to sort them. Ended up with a few pink socks that way,” Dan says. 

“How?” Phil asks. “You don’t have anything that’s an actual color.” 

“I’ve got this red hoodie Lacey bought me. I wore it once and then she stole it from me. I know, it’s stupid,” Dan mumbles. 

Phil ignores all of the terrible feelings swirling around in his gut. “No, not stupid. You two are cute.” 

It’s totally a lie. Dan doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Hmm. I dunno about that.” 

“What? You don’t think so?” It’s worse if they keep talking about it. Phil asks anyway. Because he’s an expert in self sabotage. 

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t talk about Lacey much. Phil’s not sure what the standard is for talking about your significant other with friends. He’s been trying not to notice so far. Not that hard though. 

Then quietly, he says, “I’m depressed.” 

“Okay.” 

Dan looks up, surprised. “Okay?” 

“I mean, what can I do to help?” 

“You’re helping now just - doing my laundry and...” Dan pauses. “Being here. I’m not good at being alone.” 

Dan looks so small now. He’s folded in on himself and can’t hold Phil’s gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. His body scrunched up into the wall behind the dryer. He looks so young. 

“I’m sorry you’re depressed,” Phil says, because he feels like he should. 

Dan shrugs for the millionth time. “S’alright. I’m not great to be around on bad brain days.” 

“Is that what today is?” 

“Uhh. Yeah. Sorry.” 

“Stop that.” Phil throws a sock at him. 

Dan frowns. “Sock abuse.” 

He throws it back at Phil, but it’s terrible and goes too far right, slipping down the back of the washer. Phil leans over and tries to reach down the back of it. His arms are just long enough to reach. 

“A-ha!” he says, waving the sock like a victory flag. 

Dan smiles for Phil’s sake. “Good job, mate. You really don’t have to do this. It’s just-” 

Phil’s not sure where his head’s at. Or where all Dan’s thoughts have gone. Phil has days like this too sometimes, the ones where it feels like he’s sleep walking. 

“-I don’t really talk to anyone about this stuff. I know I’m supposed to, or that’s what my therapist says.” 

“What about Lacey?” 

Phil can see Dan’s shoulders tense. It feels weird. Too personal to be talking about all of this with someone he’s just met. Even though it’s been weeks and they’re mates now. Phil doesn’t even know Dan’s middle name. That feels like something he’d know before they’d start sharing inner demons. 

“She’s got work. And mates and a life and I don’t feel like dragging her down with me today.”

There’s something heavy in Phil’s gut. He shoves it down as far as it can go and tells himself to stop prying. 

“She loves you? I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” 

Dan shakes his head. “She’s sick of me. I’m sick of me. This sucks, Phil. You don’t want to sit here and listen to me… whatever.” He stands up and opens the dryer, letting the door slam open as far as it will go. The buzzer had gone a while ago, but Phil hadn’t made a move to deal with it. 

Dan pulls some of Phil’s clothes out and throws them into his basket on the floor beneath the dryer door. His movements are rushed a little bit manic and everything seems disconnected. Phil’s never seen him like this. 

He presses the button that starts Dan’s wash. “Dan.” 

He ignores Phil. Or doesn’t hear him. He’s on another planet. 

“Dan.” This time Phil reaches out. 

Dan looks up, shocked and sudden like he’d forgotten about Phil for a second. He vibrates. Phil thinks if he squeezes too hard he might burst. Pop like a balloon and float away too high for Phil to reach. 

“You don’t have to,” Phil says. 

“Don’t I?” Dan asks, pleading for answers Phil doesn’t have. 

Phil shakes his head, “Lacey’s not sick of you.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Against all logic, Phil says, “Did I do something?” 

That seems to bring Dan back down for a moment. “What? When?” 

“The other night? She didn’t seem happy… I don’t know. I felt like I was taking up a lot of your time and she didn’t really know anyone-” He’s rambling. It’s too close to some kind of truth. 

Dan breathes out. Phil thinks maybe he’s been holding in half a breath. “No. You didn’t do anything.” 

“Oh. She seemed upset.” 

“It’s me.” Dan says, calmly. His energy settles. Phil lets go, a bit less afraid of possible spontaneous combustion. 

“It’s you?” 

“I told you. I’m a mess.” 

Phil chuckles, “Yeah. So am I.” 

“No, you don’t get it. I am the messiest mess-” 

Phil cuts him off, “You’re not about to argue with me about your level of mess, are you?” 

“I can’t even do my own laundry.” He’s too deflated now to argue. He slouches. 

“Well, then it’s a good thing you have a Phil here to help you out.” 

* 

The laundry eventually gets done. Phil leaves his in a pile in his room without folding or hanging anything up. His head hurts. He can handle a few wrinkly shirts. 

He’s in Dan’s kitchen now, making them both ham and cheese sandwiches. It’s the only thing he can make easily and without fear of ruining Dan’s kitchen or setting the whole flat on fire. And it’s easy enough that Dan doesn’t feel like he needs to help. 

He’s sitting at the piano, fingers crisscrossing over the keys but not making any sound. There’s a kind of ritual to it, or a pattern. He reaches a point in the pattern and starts over each time, shaking his head and slouching further forward. 

Phil watches and doesn’t say anything about it. 

There was a moment before when he wondered if there was something really wrong. Dan’s depressed, but he seems okay about it. Okay enough that Phil doesn’t feel like he needs to call anyone. It still makes him nervous, the whole thing. Dan is just as good at hiding as Phil. It could be worse than he’s letting on. He starts sentences and never finishes them. Phil keeps filling in the blanks with the scariest possibilities. That’s just the way his brain works. 

He brings Dan his sandwich. Dan scoots over so Phil can sit next to him in front of the piano. Too close, Phil notices. He shoves it down. That’s not important now. 

Dan focuses on his hands holding the sandwich. 

Phil says, “These remind me of school, you know.” He takes a bite so he doesn’t say anything else. 

Dan nods, “Yeah.” 

They eat in silence. It’s weird eating in front of the piano. They’re sat too far forward for Phil to really look at Dan. So he just looks at the sheets of music on the stand like they mean something to him. Phil tries his best not spill crumbs onto the keys. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phil tries. 

Dan shakes his head. 

“You okay?” 

“Okay enough,” Dan says. 

Phil believes him. But. “You looked sad.” 

“What?” 

“When I first met you,” Phil whispers. It feels like a secret. “You looked sad. I think maybe that's why I acted all weird and friendly.” 

“I think you just are weird and friendly.” It makes Phil laugh. That was probably Dan’s goal. The corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit. 

“Maybe.” Maybe it was fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. 

Phil presses in a few keys on the piano. A terrible song. He feels awkward. Like he’s let on too much. 

“So...” Dan starts. “I’m, uh, playing a show.” 

“Yeah?” 

He squeezes a piece of the bread together, smushing it down into a brown lump. 

“It’s a showcase thing. It’s for these artists that are looking to be seen by people in the business. Like, instrumental artists.” 

“Like a recital?” 

Dan frowns, “No, Phil. It’s not a fucking recital. Recitals are those things that parents go to to gawk at their kids while they stumble around a stage in half-price tap shoes. Just making a bunch of noise.” 

He sounds so much more like himself. Phil tries to hide his grin. It feels like an accomplishment. 

“Alright, so what do you call it then?” 

“It’s called a showcase,” he says it like he’s talking to a two-year-old. Phil doesn’t mind. 

“Ohh, right.” He hams it up a bit, just to see if it works for Dan. 

It does. “We actually, like, know what we’re doing. And really important people come to these things, Phil. These people can make your career. Or.. or fucking break it. So it’s a bit bigger of a deal than some dinky recital.” 

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.” 

Dan huffs a breath. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hands go back to the piano instinctively. Just resting on top of the keys. 

“Is this part of why today hasn’t been great?” Phil guesses. 

Dan nods. 

“Everyone gets nervous.” 

“It’s not just that. I’m gonna fuck it up. I always do, so I don’t really know why it matters if I even go. I have to, is the thing. But I- I can’t even rehearse the way I’m supposed to.” 

It’s that thing Phil gets. The thing that makes him scared as hell to share any of what he writes. Most people who make stuff get it. PJ talks about it too. It’s a mix of fear and adrenaline. It’s the need for validation, constantly warring with the fear of fucking it all up. 

“When is it?” Phil asks. 

“Tomorrow.” 

Dan leans down and puts his head in his hands, banging a terrible sound out of the piano with his elbows. Just like the sound Phil heard the other day through the wall. 

“That’s at least 10 hours you’ve got to practice, yeah?” 

He talks into his hands. “What if I can’t do it?” 

Phil bumps his shoulder into Dan’s. “You can.” 

“How do you know?” he murmurs. 

Phil wishes he would look at him. “I just do.” 

He peeks out through his fingers. “Can you secretly see the future, Phil Lester?” 

Phil smiles, “Mum says my nan had the gift.” 

Dan gives him an incredulous look, but at least he’s looking at him. And then suddenly Dan is laughing loud and obnoxious and totally into Phil’s ear. It’s the loudest sound that’s come from Dan all day and it’s the best thing Phil’s ever heard. 

* 

Dan’s showcase is in a fancy art building that Phil’s never been to before. He spots Lacey as soon as he gets there and goes to stand next to her. 

He didn’t help Dan practice the night before, but he’d made him laugh enough until he seemed a bit more awake and a lot less anxious. He taught Phil how to play the Star Wars theme. That seemed to be a good enough start to actually pressing in the keys. 

Lacey’s wearing a black dress. It’s probably the kind of dress she’d wear to a funeral, but Phil notices a lot of the people already here and waiting to be let into the auditorium are wearing black. His shirt is bright blue. He hopes Dan hadn’t forgotten to mention a dress code. 

Phil didn’t even know he was coming until about an hour ago when Dan texted: 

_hey do you need directions_

Phil was in the middle of working and probably would have ignored it, had it been anyone else. 

He said, _To where?_

_to the showcase_

_Did you mean recital?_

_fuck off_

And then:

_you’re coming right_

So Phil dropped everything to be here. Literally. 

Lacey smiles at him as he approaches. “Hi, Phil. I didn’t know you were coming.” 

Dan didn’t tell her. That’s fine. And probably means nothing since he’s been so scatterbrained lately. 

“Hi. Er, yeah. Dan invited me,” is all he comes up with. 

Lacey nods, “Well, thanks for coming.” 

“Is he nervous?” That’s all Phil really wants to know. 

“I’m sure he is. He always is. I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday, so I don’t actually know. He was probably practicing most of the day. He gets into these intense rehearsal modes.” 

And she doesn’t know anything that happened after the laundry incident. Phil guesses he’s probably not meant to tell her. 

He forces a smile, “Ah, makes sense. Musicians, huh?” 

It’s a weak joke without a punchline, but she smiles back. “He’s a handful that one.” 

It’s fond, but tense. Phil isn’t here to pick apart their relationship. He’s here to support Dan. He’s here to be a good friend. And god, he’s trying. He’s always been able to do that. It’s something he’s actually pretty proud of, his ability to be there for people and help hold them up. People can depend on him. He’s consistent. He cares. That’s all he’s trying to be for Dan. It shouldn’t be so hard. 

He just keeps getting in his own way. He blames that mirror he smashed. The bad luck finally catching up to him. 

“You know,” Lacey starts. “He’s happier now. I think.” 

“Now?” He’s not sure what she’s trying to say. 

“Since he met you.” 

There goes his heart, getting in his way again. 

*

They get their seats in the small auditorium near to the front. It’s not much of a stage, just a little raised platform with the fanciest piano Phil’s ever seen in the center. There’s a row of seats at the very front full of people in suits and holding clipboards. It’s intimidating, just looking at them. 

He looks over at Lacey next to him, but she seems calm and collected. He wonders how old she is, looking at her he’d guess she’s older than him. But that comes with having your life together like she does. Like Phil assumes she does. 

It starts with a violinist. Phil likes violins mostly, but they always reminds him a bit of the noises mosquitos make. Then there’s a classical guitarist who looks a lot older than Phil would expect, closer to his mum’s age if he were to guess. There’s a few pianists before Dan. They play lots of famous pieces of music Phil sort of recognizes. And everyone is good. Not that Phil is at all qualified to say. They’re better than what he expects to see when he thinks of a recital. Dan was right. This is these people’s careers. 

Everyone’s good. But Phil thinks Dan is better. 

He comes out in a completely black suit. And Phil stops breathing for a second. 

Lacey reaches over and squeezes Phil’s wrist. Her eyes glued to the stage. Phil wonders if she’s nervous too, or feeling as riled as he is. That mix of fear and adrenaline. Full on and staring them in the face. 

Dan introduces himself as Daniel and says he’ll be playing an original piece. It’s the first original of the night. The intimidating suits in the front make a note in their clipboards. 

Phil is so nervous. Not because he doesn’t believe in Dan. It’s just, he wants him to do well so badly. He crosses his fingers and toes, literally. He’s Phil, of course he does. 

Dan walks over to the shiny piano and opens the lid. He stops then for a second and breathes. Phil wonders if he’ll see them. Phil kind of needs him to. The lights are probably too bright. Dan probably has a routine, he won’t break it for Phil’s sake. 

His hands glide over the keys but he doesn’t sit down. It’s just like the night before. He plays out a part of the song without making any actual sound.

He shakes his hands out and cracks his thumbs. He glances up. And makes direct eye contact with Phil. 

He smiles. Phil forgets to blink, he forgets he even has eyelids. He smiles back. 

Phil could be a fool, Dan could be looking at Lacey. 

Phil holds up his crossed fingers at Dan, just to see. Dan smiles wider, his dimples punching holes in his cheeks. 

Dan sits down and starts to play. The song sounds familiar, and it takes Phil a second to remember that it isn’t some famous piece of music that everyone would know. It’s just Dan. It’s the song from a few weeks ago, the one Phil heard through the door. It’s the song Phil has had stuck in his head ever since he heard it. It’s the song that shows up in Phil’s dreams.

There’s something about it. The rhythm, the way it moves, the way Dan concentrates on his hands as he plays. Phil doesn’t know anything about music. He likes instrumental music from movie soundtracks, but he’s never heard anything like this before. 

Something about this song tugs so clearly at him. Pulls him in like magic. Makes him forget about his body sitting in his seat. He’s floating. 

This song feels like something that existed inside Phil’s soul before Dan even knew him. It’s his favorite song. The best noise he’s ever heard. 

That’s all Dan’s doing, existing on stage just to make a bunch of noise - that’s what he said the night before. 

But - it’s Phil’s noise. It’s for him. 

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. Dan doesn’t even believe in souls, does he? Not like Phil does. 

Dan finishes in a sweep of fingers and thumbs over the keys. Phil settles back into his body, feels Lacey’s hand still gripped on his wrist. The audience claps the same way they have for everyone before him. It’s not the rousing standing ovation Phil thinks it deserves. 

Dan says, “Thank you,” and walks offstage to sit with the rest of the musicians. 

A few people go after him. Everyone else is boring compared to Dan. Covering the same Mozart or Bach or whatever else - Phil doesn’t pay attention. He’s biased, sure. That doesn’t mean he isn’t right. 

Phil feels like he’s run a marathon. The song was only about 3 minutes long, but. Still. He’s not sure he breathed at all during it. He catches his breath, he lets all that feeling from before get stored in a secret hiding place. 

It can’t be what he’s thinking. This will just get sorted along with all of his other too-good-to-be-true and hopeless romantic ideas. 

*

Dan says, “Thanks for coming.” 

“You were really good,” Phil replies. He wants to say that Dan was amazing. Or hug Dan. Tell him how much he loved his song. Ask a million questions about it. Ask him to play it again, over and over until Phil has it memorized. 

Dan grins, it doesn't reach his eyes. “Thanks.” 

“What?” Because he can tell. 

Dan shrugs. “I fucked up the middle bit.” 

Phil shakes his head. “What is it they say about being your own worst critic?” 

Dan grins. Phil pretends the butterflies in his stomach don’t exist. He’s overwhelmingly aware how ridiculous he is. The moment doesn’t last. 

Lacey kisses Dan and starts to rave about him being amazing. Phil can’t stand it anymore. He wanders over to look at a fancy railing. He’s not much into architecture but it looks kind of cool. It’s gold. 

“Hey.” It’s Dan, standing behind him with his hands in his pockets. 

Phil turns. “Hey.” 

Dan shifts. Still full of energy, just less bad energy. 

“You want to grab some food?” he says, nervous. 

Phil can’t anymore. He can’t keep being around Dan and pretending there isn’t something unbalanced with them. He says, “I can’t.” 

“Oh.” 

In general, Phil hates disappointing people. Disappointing Dan is even worse. 

He backtracks. “I mean - I kind of have some more work to do.” 

“Okay. It’s fine. Another time.” But he’s frowning. 

And there’s nothing wrong with Phil wanting to see him smile. “Actually… work can wait. Just for a little bit.” 

Dan dimples. “You sure?” 

Phil nods. “Pizza? Or, should we ask Lacey?” 

“Oh, uh. She’s not coming. She said she’s too tired, or something.” 

It’s a trap. Or maybe it’s another step towards a destiny that’s already set in place for them. That’s what Phil tells himself at least. 

He smiles, “Too bad. Pizza it is, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i'm 100% unsure about this one. but here it is anyway. 
> 
> catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i missed last week! had some stuff go down and wasn't feeling my best. we are now back to my regularly scheduled weekly-ish updates (trying to shoot for wednesday/thursday), but i thought i'd post this a little earlier to make up for last week! hope you like it!

“How is everything?” Jimmy asks, his fork halfway to his mouth. 

Phil shrugs.  _ Everything _ . What’s he even asking anyway? Everything could mean a lot of things. Everything could be his writing projects or his dad’s health or the shows he’s binging on Netflix. Phil doesn’t know what to start with and he can’t decide which Jimmy might actually want to hear about. He doesn’t really know how to talk to him anymore. 

The whole dinner has been weird. It had been Jimmy’s idea. Probably to make up for all of the cancelled evenings they’d had planned in the last few months. Jimmy’s had other priorities recently, and Phil can’t really blame him. He’d probably be the same if he were in love and giddy and caught up in one person that’s caused everything to shift. Phil assumes he would be the same, he doesn’t actually know as it’s never happened to him before. A fact he keeps reminding himself. 

He should stop it. It’s annoying. It’s annoying to all the people around him having to deal with his moaning. All the people, which is really only Bryony. And he hasn’t even spoken to her in about a week - other than a few texts back and forth about nothing. So it’s mostly just annoying to Phil. 

That’s what Jimmy wants to do tonight, he guesses. Talk about nothing. Nothing important. Just the small talk old mates do when it’s been too long between seeing each other. Phil hates small talk. He hates that there has been time to pass at all. The mundane questions are maybe just another reminder of the fact that time won’t stop moving through them. It’s not Jimmy’s fault. Phil can’t help but notice it. 

He shrugs, “Everything’s fine.” 

“Fine?” he pushes. He makes a face like Phil should know what he’s talking about. 

Phil physically restrains himself from shrugging again. “Yeah?” 

Jimmy looks down at his plate, “Alright.” 

T here’s a question behind it. One that Phil knows he isn’t going to say unless Phil asks. It’s the familiar push and pull that comes with having a conversation with Jimmy. Phil had forgotten about his weird teasing until now. 

He really doesn’t want to ask. But he has to know what’s making Jimmy smirk like that. 

He gives in, “What?” 

Jimmy takes his time chewing, and then, “Everything’s fine? Even the stuff with your would-be-soulmate?” 

Of course it comes back to Dan. 

Phil hasn’t spoken to Jimmy about Dan since the initial humiliation of finding out about Dan’s apparent straightness. It's too embarrassing to bring up or even think about. The fact that Phil had gotten so ahead of himself and Jimmy had warned him not to, but Phil was an idiot - as usual. He jumped into the deep end without looking and ended up with water up his nose… or something. Phil’s too irritated to come up with a good metaphor. 

“Oh. That.” He shoves some rice into his mouth. 

“Yeah. That. Have you seen him much?” 

Phil swallows. “Why would I have seen him?” he says, defensive. He reminds himself that this isn’t an interrogation. Jimmy isn’t going to mock him for  _ maybe _ fancying Dan a bit. Just a bit. Even if Dan is straight and taken. There’s nothing wrong with finding the guy attractive. 

It makes his head spin as he thinks it. Phil’s gone down some fucking rabbit hole. He can’t keep track of which delusion he’s currently tricked himself into believing: that he’s only physically attracted to Dan or that he feels nothing at all. Knowing Jimmy, he’ll probably know better than Phil. He's always been better at this sort of thing. 

“Because you live in the same building?” It’s a statement and a question.

Phil is just making this whole thing weirder and more unbearable.  He takes a drink of his coke instead of answering. 

Jimmy makes a less amused face. “S’alright. We can talk about something else. I just thought--” 

“What?” Phil says too quickly. 

“I don’t know, mate. I thought maybe it’d gotten better.” 

“Well, Dan’s still got a girlfriend and he’s still not gay so.” 

Jimmy shakes his head, “That’s not what I meant.” 

“What did you mean?” 

He’s making this harder. He knows Jimmy only means well. But it’s hard not to feel like he’s laughing at Phil. Jimmy did the thing, he fell in love, he’s living happily ever after. And Phil is pining after a guy that will never feel the same way. And Jimmy knows it. That’s the worst part. Jimmy sees behind Phil’s cool mask. He sees without even looking. Phil can’t hide from him. 

“I meant - I actually don’t know what I meant. I’m sorry, Phil. I didn’t mean to make it a joke.” 

Phil stabs at the food on his plate. Jimmy wanted to eat at a weird time and Phil isn’t really hungry. He only ate lunch a few hours ago. 

“It just kind of sucks,” Phil says. 

“What does?” 

“The fact that I still feel - I don’t know. I wish it was easy for me like it is for you.” 

Jimmy chuckles, “You think it's easy for me?” 

“Oh, don’t start.” 

“I’m being serious. Nothing about getting together with Tom was easy.” 

“But it’s easy now, yeah?” 

They stare at each other for a moment. Phil doesn’t even blink, determined to catch Jimmy if he slips. 

Jimmy looks away first, “Yeah. I guess it is easy now. But, everyone keeps telling me we’re just in the honeymoon stage.” 

Phil does his best not to mention that since Jimmy started dating Tom, they’ve only been able to hang out once. Not for lack of trying. Jimmy kept cancelling for random and increasingly vague reasons. Reasons that all seem to be wrapped up in Tom. 

But he huffs a little sarcastic laugh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

Jimmy tries not to smile. The lovesick fool. “I’m serious, though. It wasn’t easy in the beginning.” 

“What? So you think I have a chance?” 

“I’m not saying that?” 

Phil points his fork at Jimmy like a weapon, “You’re a terrible wingman, Jim.” 

“Well, I don’t know, Phil! You haven’t even let me ask you about him!” 

He’s right. Whatever. He’s right a lot of the time. Phil’s not great with logic or emotions. And he’s even worse with both combined. 

“Okay, fine. Ask away.” 

“So you’ve seen him?” 

Phil nods, “Yeah. Loads, actually.” He tells Jimmy about the texting and running into Dan around the building. He tells him about the board game party, leaving out some more exposing details - doesn't mention wishing on eyelashes or shooting stars. His life already feels like a cruel, unrequited love story. 

“Woah. So you’re like proper friends, then?” 

“I guess.” 

“And he doesn't talk about his girlfriend?” 

“Not at all, really. Until the other day when he….” 

“When he?” Jimmy prompts. 

Phil’s not sure about giving all those details about his and Dan’s laundry day. It feels like more of Dan’s secrets than Phil’s silly pining. Dan doesn’t need Phil giving all his secrets away to people that he doesn’t even know. So he settles somewhere in between. 

“He had a bad day. We talked about it and. It doesn’t seem like Lacey gives him much support.” 

“You think it’s toxic?” 

Phil shakes his head, “Not like that. I just… I honestly don’t even know why they started dating in the first place, Jim. It seems like they have nothing in common. I mean, she bought him a red shirt.” 

“What’s wrong with a red shirt?” 

Phil almost laughs. “Maybe I’m overthinking it but, Dan literally only wears black. Maybe some white and grey. He’s entirely monochrome. It’s one of the main pillars of his personality.” 

Jimmy smiles way too wide for Phil to feel comfortable. 

“What?” he asks. 

Jimmy keeps smiling, toothy and shit-eating. “You proper fancy him.” 

Phil groans. Loudly and not unlike a child. He slumps back against the booth, dropping his fork on his plate with a clatter. 

“What, Phil?” 

“Please. Don’t say it out loud.” 

Jimmy’s face goes soft. “What’s the matter? It’s not a bad thing.” 

Phil almost rolls his eyes. He stops halfway, staring at the ceiling. “Yes, it is. How could it not be?” 

The waitress comes by to refill their drinks then. It’s one of the most awkward moments of Phil’s life, to let the conversation go quiet as she pours. Can’t restaurant tables have “do not disturb” signs? 

She goes and Jimmy starts back right where they left off. 

“Why is it a bad thing to fancy Dan, Phil?” 

“Because!” Phil whisper-shouts. “He’s straight and taken and fucking perfect!” 

Jimmy makes a choking noise. He barely ever hears Phil swear.  “He’s perfect?” 

“Yes, James. He’s perfect. And when we’re - together.” It’s too much. Too much when it’s out loud and in the open and not just bouncing around his head in the middle of the night for only himself and his empty bedroom walls to hear. 

He takes a breath. “When we’re together, it feels like something just fits. I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. I have literally prayed and wished on every genie-spirit in the universe to make it so he doesn’t break my heart. And it’s not working.” 

Jimmy’s quiet for a moment. Like he’s taking it in or thinking of the best way to let Phil down with the truth. Genie-spirits don't exist and Phil is too far gone. Phil takes a drink and really wishes it wasn’t just carbonated sugar water. 

Eventually, Jimmy says, “Phil. Do you actually know that he’s straight?” 

Phil sputters and has to wipe the dribble off his chin. “What? Yes, I told you. He has a girlf-”

“Yeah, mate. You’ve mentioned that about a dozen times. That doesn't answer my question.” 

“How does it not?” 

Jimmy frowns. “Phil. Really? Guys can be queer and still like vagina.” 

Phil slaps his hand against his own mouth, “Jimmy!” 

“What? Vagina’s not a bad word.” 

“I know, but-” Phil looks around to see if anyone nearby is giving them dirty looks. The restaurant is near empty at this odd between-lunch-and-dinner hour. 

Jimmy taps at the table to get Phil's attention back. “Did you even hear what I said?” 

He had. But he wishes he hadn’t. Bryony has said it too. Just because Dan has a girlfriend doesn’t mean he’s fully straight. But Phil can’t even think it. It almost makes it worse. 

Accepting that Dan isn’t wired to like Phil that way, is easier. Phil can get over that twice as fast. Accepting that Dan could like Phil that way, and is choosing not to, is so much worse. It’s easier to blame it on Dan’s relationship status and bad timing and Phil existing in the wrong universe. However problematic and presumptuous that might be.

Phil shoves at his hair, it reminds him of Dan and the laundry room. “That makes it worse.” 

Jimmy does roll his eyes. “You aren’t making this easy.” 

“I know.” 

He huffs, “Did you mean what you said?” 

“Which part?” 

“That it feels meant to be?” 

“I said that?” Phil can't remember. His brain is back to mush. 

“I think so, somewhere in all the nonsense you talk. That’s what I made of it.” 

The answer is yes, anyway. It’s felt meant to be from the very first day he met Dan. Utterly and completely meant to be something. And yet, there’s so much in his way telling him the opposite. 

Jimmy really isn’t helping. 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Jimmy asks. 

“Honestly? Not really.” 

Jimmy laughs at that. Phil didn’t mean for it to be funny. 

“Mate. Soulmates, it’s not going to be some perfect match immediately. It’s not like you’re magnets that get stuck together the first time you meet. But if you feel like how you say you do, then there’s something there. Something to see through, at least. Have you even talked to the bloke about it?”

“A little. We agreed we knew each other in a past life. But, he doesn’t know I’m gay.” 

Phil can tell Jimmy’s trying not to laugh. Or roll his eyes again. Or maybe reach across the table to strangle him. 

“Well, maybe you should start there.” 

Phil sees Jimmy’s trying to be a good friend. He’s trying to make up for his attention being elsewhere while Phil deals with - all this. So he can be Phil’s love guru and give him half baked advice based on his very limited experience. And Phil will let him. Because Jimmy might just know what he’s talking about. 

And at least he doesn’t tear Phil down for wanting something that might just be the wrong thing. He doesn’t tease him for believing in things he can’t see. 

Jimmy raises his glass, “I’m rooting for you, Phil. I really am.” 

Phil raises his glass too. They clink together. It’s awkward, but at least it’s something.

*

He calls Bryony on the way home, because he’s not ready to be alone with all the crisscrossing thoughts in his head. He needs more noise, someone else to talk to to fill up the space. 

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” she says as she picks up. 

This is so much easier. It’s a relief. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with how much he misses her. And he realizes he’s done exactly what Jimmy’s done to him. Before Dan, Bryony was over at his place almost every night. He’s barely seen her in the few weeks he’s been spending time with Dan. He tries not to feel guilty, it doesn’t work. 

“Nope. I had dinner with Jimmy.” 

“How’s he?” 

“The same.” 

Bryony and Jimmy are friends from different parts of Phil’s life. Jimmy, a friend from uni that just happened to end up in the same city as Phil after graduation. And Bryony, his first adult friend and a permanent fixture in the life he's chosen for himself. Phil tries to keep them separate as much as he can. There's too much weirdness when he tries to combine the two. 

“Still laddy?”

“Is that even a word?” 

“Yes. It’s my word.” 

“Did I tell you he’s got a boyfriend?” 

“I think so. I don’t keep up with all your mates’ love lives.” 

“He thinks he can give me advice about Dan now that he knows all there is about love.” 

“And?” 

He thinks she’d probably be tired of hearing about everything Dan-related. But she doesn’t sound like she’s bothered. She’s good like that. 

“He’s on board with him not being totally straight.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” 

Phil glances at the street he’s on and does a 180. He was walking in the wrong direction. He gets lost often enough, he actually recognizes the lookalike neighborhood he’s sure he’s stumbled into more than once. 

“You think I should ask Dan?” 

“If he likes dick?” 

“Oh my god, I hate you both.” 

“And yet we’re the only friends you have.” 

He smiles to himself, grateful Bryony can’t see it over the phone. “Shut up.” 

“I only speak the truth.” 

He looks around and the roads are less familiar. It’s getting darker and his senses feel muffled from all this thinking about feelings. 

“Ah… shit.” 

“What?” 

“I keep going down the wrong street.” 

“Just take a taxi, you goof.” 

“I like walking. It’s nice.” 

“It’s dark and creepy, Phil.” 

“It’s - oh god.” 

“What? Is it a dead squirrel?” 

“Ew, oh my god. Why the hell would it be a dead squirrel?” 

“I’ve seen plenty of dead squirrels in London in the middle of the night.” 

“I… don’t want to know. No, it’s not a dead squirrel. I just - I realized what I was about to say.”

“Which is…?” 

“I’m going to sound so mushy.” 

“You already sound mushy.” 

He gives up all his dignity and says, “Ugh. It’s Dan’s favorite time of day right now.” 

“Oh. That’s not bad,” she doesn’t sound surprised. It throws Phil off.

“But it makes me sound-” 

“Gone for him?” she finishes for him. 

“Well - yeah.” 

“Phil.” Reset. 

“Bryony.” 

“I saw you two at Jon’s. I really don’t want to give you false hope, but. Mate. It seems like he likes you. Maybe he doesn't know it yet. But he completely ditched Lacey. He hung on to you the whole night. Jon even asked me about it.” 

Phil stops walking. “He did?” 

“Asked if you were seeing each other. I think he thought Lacey and Dan were just friends. I mean, they didn’t seem like they were together.” 

Phil squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, the streetlights splay out in his vision like a kaleidoscope. He’s exhausted and still has no idea where he is. He should just suck it up and call a cab. 

“Hey, Bryony? This is hurting my brain. Can we talk about it more later?” 

“I’ll come over this weekend.” It’s not even a question. It’s so simple with them, he loves her so much. 

“Bring cakes.” 

“You’re weak, Philly.” 

He sighs, “I know.” He ignores how it sounds. Full of something he’s not ready to face. 

They hang up. Phil calls a cab and it only takes ten extra minutes for him to get home. 

In the elevator, he thinks about pressing Dan’s floor instead of his own. But then he thinks about how it might feel to see Lacey answer the door instead of Dan. But if it were Dan - he’s not sure he trusts himself to do the right thing tonight. 

* 

He wakes up to a text from Dan. 

_ is it weird that i feel weird that i haven’t seen you in two days and that it feels weird that i really just want to come to your flat and play mario kart but i’m too weird to ask because we’re grown ups and not children _

_ sorry i said weird a lot  _

_ oh it’s late you’re probably asleep  _

It had been close to 4 in the morning. Phil wonders if Dan ever sleeps. 

He sends a screenshot of the message to Jimmy. Because he’s starting to feel like a teenager again with all these giddy feelings and conspiratorial conversations. And Phil thinks maybe it could be fun if he stops thinking so hard. 

Jimmy replies,  _ did he just say he misses you??  _ With a string of emojis. 

That’s all the confirmation he needs to know he’s not reading too much into Dan’s message. 

He gives it an hour and then sends a text back to Dan. 

_ Rematch? I’ll be home all day.  _

Dan says,  _ loser buys the other dinner  _

Against all his better judgement, Phil says: 

_ It’s a date.  _

And he turns his phone off before Dan can reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	9. Chapter 9

He’s back to staring at a blank document. There’s been a few pages before this one, filled with text and rambling. It’s fine. And Phil hates it. There is something fun about it, something that feels like how it did when he wrote the comic. All the things back in uni that made him feel like being a writer was the dream. Not something impossible. Something filled with possibilities when the tips of his fingers connect to his computer keys. 

It’s funny. He wonders if that’s how Dan feels when he plays piano. 

Dan, who loved Phil’s goofy comic. Dan, who’s shared more of his art with Phil than Phil has ever been able to do with another person. He’s got files and files of secret projects and half finished ideas. Note pages filled with three word phrases that he doesn’t understand anymore - ideas that had promise once upon a time. 

Now he stares, his brain blank and holding back self doubt. He thinks about Dan, lets his mind wander into that part of himself he tries his best to ignore most of the time. He wonders if Dan might like the new story he’s started. His heart speeds up at the idea of Dan reading it. It’s glaringly gay. And he still doesn’t know how Dan might react to - _ that. _

It’s scary to think about. It’s too much. He still hasn’t opened his phone to see Dan’s response to his last text. He’s not ready for that can of worms or the endless cycle of overthinking it might trigger. 

He said,  _ it’s a date _ , like an idiot. But, Dan knows he’s joking, right? He has to. Because Dan has a girlfriend and Phil isn’t stupid. 

Okay, maybe he’s a little stupid. 

He turns back to his laptop, trying to focus on this page. Maybe he’s not ready to write something like this, he thinks. It’s personal, and dreamy, and real. He’s not hiding behind any kind of magic or mystery here. Phil isn’t very good at being vulnerable in real life, it’s easier when he’s writing. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still freak him out. 

He feels fifteen again. It’s terrifying and thrilling at the same time. 

*

The sky is purple outside. The room’s gone gray because Phil never turned the lights on after the sky filled with clouds and the sun started to go down. He’s been sitting in the same spot on the couch for twenty, thirty, forty minutes? There’s no way to keep track of time when he’s avoiding looking at his phone and refusing to open his laptop. In the few years he’s lived here, he’s never gotten round to buying a proper clock. It feels too adult and Phil likes to pretend he’s not reached that level of grown up yet, even at 28 years old. 

There’s this overwhelming feeling of _bad_ today. Mostly about himself and his lack of function. Like, he hasn’t left the flat all day and there is, once again, barely any food left in his fridge. But he stays home, procrastinates on his projects, and rereads Internet Zombies - just to make himself feel good about the one decent thing he’s done in his life. 

It’s an overwhelming day, really. But only in his brain. No one would know, just by looking at him. 

There’s a knock at the door around the time Phil’s stomach starts making noises. It catches him off guard for a second, because he hasn’t spoken to anyone today. But then he remembers - Dan and their conversation from earlier that morning. He’s suddenly aware of his two-day-old sweatpants and coffee stained tshirt. And his hair, oh god. 

The knock comes again, lighter this time. Phil doesn’t have time to change. Dan might think he’s out if he doesn’t open the door now, and maybe that would be for the best. Phil just, well. He misses Dan. He opens the door. 

Dan is looking a lot better than Phil. He’s wearing the shirt Phil bought him, he notices. It’s the first time he’s seen it on and it looks good. Dan’s just in jeans, the same black ones that he always wears. It’s not like he dressed up. But Phil feels severely underdressed. 

“Hi.” Dan says. He’s in that mood again, slightly reserved and a little bit awkward. But he’s smiling. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Oh!” Phil says. “Yeah, yeah.” 

His shoulder brushes past Phil’s as he comes inside. Phil tries his best to suppress any kind of physical reaction to the movement. He’s not sure he succeeds, but Dan’s turned away when Phil feels the shiver roll through him. 

“Sorry I didn’t text. I just, felt like coming over and you never said anything--” 

“Yeah,” Phil cuts him off. “I meant to, I just…” There’s too much truth past that. He leaves it. 

Dan picks it up, “What?” He’s facing Phil, they’re both just standing in the small space between the sofa and the kitchen. Dan doesn’t sit down and Phil’s not sure why. It feels like a confrontation. It shouldn’t be, unless Phil really is that dense. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Nothing?” Dan asks. 

Phil shakes his head, there’s not much to say. He’s been so busy overthinking practically everything in his life that he’s lost his grip. There’s nothing to hold onto anymore, Phil feels lost in the middle of it. And Dan… doesn’t even know him that well yet. Phil isn’t about to dump it all on him. Dan isn’t any more stable than Phil, he doesn’t have the answers and Phil refuses to go looking for any in him. 

Dan tilts his head like a puppy. It’s cute. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why would there be something wrong?” Phil puts on his best smile. His cheeks twitch. 

Dan looks up and down and bounces his leg, like he’s got some pent up energy. “I don’t know. You just seem… I don’t know. Off. Should I go?” 

“No,” Phil says. 

“Okay.” 

Phil isn’t a talker. Especially not about this. He wanted to have a fun evening with Dan, laughing and playing games and not caring about whatever any of it might mean. He’s already messing it up, but Dan is standing there, asking Phil what’s wrong. It’s so easy and too hard and Phil doesn’t know how to be honest. About any of it. 

He shrugs, “Today hasn’t been great.” Dan’s eyes have a way of making him spill his guts without meaning to. He’s already so close to that edge, he can’t help it. It’s just another string he’s lost his hold on. 

“Why? What happened?” Dan asks, concerned. 

Phil doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “Can we, uh. Can we sit?” 

They sit down on the sofa and Phil makes a space between their bodies that feels too big. Dan scoots closer a bit like he notices the weirdness of it. 

Dan smiles at him, prompting Phil to start talking. He’s not sure what to say. 

Phil clears his throat. “I, uh. I think I’m overwhelmed.” 

“Overwhelmed?” 

“Yeah. With… everything.” Maybe that’ll be enough, he’s not sure. Dan’s looking at him with too big eyes that want to understand. Phil doesn’t even understand, Dan probably won’t either. Still, Dan wants to try and Phil might let him if he’s brave enough. 

“Phil?” 

“Yeah?”

Dan scoots even closer. “Will you talk to me?” He puts a hand on the cushion between them, face down. Phil stares at it. 

“Why?” Phil asks. 

“Because you let me talk to you. About all my shit. And I want to be able to do that for you too,” he says simply. 

Phil mumbles, “I’m not good at talking about it.” 

“That’s okay. I’m good at listening, I think.” Dan smiles. It’s so nice and open, Phil softens. 

He starts, “Okay, so. Like, I’m not a successful writer. I’ve barely even written anything to be successful at. And I’m not sure I can do it. I hate that it all depends on me. That I have to be good enough and I have to have words and ideas and stuff. But, it’s like some evil alien has come and stolen all the words and ideas and. Fuck, I’m not good at this.” 

Dan shakes his head. “You’re fine. Is that all?” 

Phil nods, and then shakes his head. It’s not even close. 

“What?” Dan pries. Maybe he should pry. Phil would keep this all shut in a locked box in the back of his brain for as long as possible if Dan let him. 

“Are you freaking out because I called this a date?” Phil blurts. 

A look goes through Dan’s eyes. Phil doesn’t know what it means, he’s never seen it before. 

“Um,” he says. “No?” 

“I’m gay.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Sure.” 

“Sure?” 

“Fuck, Phil.” It’s soft. 

“Yeah, ” even quieter. 

Everything is said fast, and all at once, and then nothing is said at all. Dan looks down at the sofa cushion, spreading his fingers out along the fabric. Phil looks at the top of Dan’s head. Dan doesn’t look sure about anything. 

Phil keeps going, his tongue running off with all his secrets and without permission. “It’s not a date. I know that. It was a joke, I was trying to be funny--” 

“Phil, I know.” 

“--but it got me all messed up because I never told you I was gay. And I didn’t want you to think…” 

“What?” Dan snaps his head up, eyes punching holes in Phil’s face. 

Phil shrugs, “I didn’t want you to think that I was flirting with you. And, hate me.” 

“I could never hate you,” Dan says, a bit too quickly. 

“Oh. Okay.” 

They’re quiet for a long time. Not looking at each other. It’s the worst thing in the world. He thinks about all the different things he could say to make it better. A “haha just kidding” probably wouldn’t go well. And everything else is too close to an actual confession of love. Love. That’s weird. He doesn’t say anything. 

He guesses Dan is busy rerouting all the things in his head that now make a lot more sense. All of the Phil Things he thought he understood, now slightly tainted by a different light. He doesn't know if it’s a good one or not. It sucks that any rerouting has to happen at all, but he’s come out so many times at this point that it’s not a shock. The fact that Dan doesn’t know what to say. Or think. Or… 

The silence is killing him. “We can forget I said that,” he tries. 

“Phil,” Dan says, still not looking at him. “Can you shut up for just a second?” It’s laced with fondness. 

“I’ve been quiet for what feels like a million hours, will you please say something?” 

“I’m thinking.” 

Phil reaches back for a pillow to smack Dan with. “Think faster.” He hits him lightly. 

Dan looks up, betrayed. “Are you serious? Did you just fucking hit me?” 

Phil smirks, “Yep.” 

“We’re having a moment.” 

Phil stops. “We are?” 

Dan takes the pillow and hits Phil back a little bit too hard. “Yes, you dingus.” 

“Ow!” 

Maybe Phil is dumb. Dan just said they’re having a moment, but Dan seems to be the only one out of the two of them to know about said moment. 

Phil asks, “What moment?” 

Dan runs a hand over his face, pulling at the skin, and then through his hair. It’s stupid, and then kind of hot. Just like Dan, Phil thinks. Suddenly this isn’t that scary. Dan isn’t disgusted or angry, but he’s thinking hard. He still grins slightly when he looks up at Phil. There’s still some invisible force pulling them together here. Dan hasn’t run away yet. There’s something exciting hidden in the silent moments. It’s fun. And ridiculous. Just like Phil. He smiles at the thought. 

Dan huffs a breath and then hits himself with his own hand. 

Phil catches his wrist before he can do it again, “Hey! Stop that.” 

Dan doesn’t pull away. “It helps.” 

“Helps what? Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Helps me not be stupid.” 

“Huh?” Phil doesn’t know where they are anymore. Dan’s on another planet in his head. 

“I’m just. I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s fine. Most people don’t.” 

“Not about that.” Dan squints his eyes at being misunderstood, but doesn’t try to help Phil figure out what he meant. 

Phil tugs Dan’s wrist. 

“It’s fine that you’re gay.” 

Phil tries to let go, but Dan turns his hand and traps Phil’s wrist. It’s a whole-handed thumb war. 

Phil says, “I know.” He doesn’t need Dan to tell him there’s nothing wrong with being gay, if that’s where this is going. 

Dan squeezes his fingertips to Phil’s wrist and then lets go. It’s weird and charged. Phil’s stomach makes another noise. 

“How long is your thinking going to take? Can I order some pizza?” 

Dan frowns, “All we eat is pizza.” 

“Thai?” Phil offers. 

Phil goes to find his laptop to place the order. It’s on his desk in his room, so he leaves Dan in the lounge to get it. While he’s in there, he takes off his sweats and finds a better tshirt and some jeans to wear. If Dan notices the change in wardrobe once Phil emerges, he doesn’t mention it. 

Phil orders their food. He sits in the kitchen away from Dan, trying to give him some kind of space in the tiny flat. Dan sits with his head in his hands. Phil has no idea what’s going on in Dan’s maze of a brain. But there’s food on the way, and Dan always cheers up after food. 

He thinks about texting Jimmy while he waits, but he isn’t sure he wants other people’s thoughts warring with his own for this. Whatever this is. 

It takes about 20 minutes for Dan to process… whatever it is he’s processing. That Phil is gay? That their friendship changes because of that? Which is bullshit. And Phil won’t hesitate to tell him. He hopes Dan doesn’t say that. He’s not sure he could handle it. 

Dan stands up and walks over to the kitchen. He leans against the breakfast bar. 

“Are you okay?” Phil asks. Stupid. Dan should be asking Phil that. He just bloody came out to him and bared his soul of all the shit that’s been making it so hard to exist. Dan’s gone and made it all about himself. 

But maybe that’s not fair. Phil’s already on the defensive before he even needs to be. 

Dan shakes his head, “I’m fine.” 

Phil doesn’t get it. “You don’t look like it.” 

“Can I talk?” 

Phil puts up his hands, giving Dan the go ahead.

“You’re an amazing writer, Phil.” It catches him off guard. 

“You’ve literally only read--” 

“Hey!” Dan cuts him off. “You said I could talk.” 

Phil makes a show of zipping his lips shut and wills himself to be quiet. 

Dan starts again, “You’re an amazing writer. And yeah, work is stressful as fuck. I get it, I literally only make money from teaching lessons and playing stuff other people have written which isn’t what I--” he stops himself from taking the tangent further. And continues, “Anyway. Making stuff isn’t easy. You’re being too hard on yourself and I don’t want you to give up on writing. Please. I really want to read the rest of your stories. Specifically the one about me fighting time traveling penguins.” 

Phil had almost forgotten about that. He bites his lip and tries not to remind Dan that he never specified it was about him. He just said a “20-something, depressed pianist.” He lets Dan keep talking. 

“An alien hasn’t stolen your ideas, Phil. You’re going to be fine.” He sounds so sure. Phil doesn’t understand where any of Dan’s faith in Phil has come from. But it helps to hear it nonetheless.

He seems done. So Phil says, “Thanks.” 

Dan makes a face, “I’m not done.” 

Phil rolls his eyes, but smiles. Dan is messing with him now, or, at least, trying to make this conversation feel less full of anxiety. 

He goes on, “I… I know this isn’t a date.” 

Phil nods his head furiously, needing Dan to know he absolutely agrees. 

“But.”  _ But. _

There’s always a but. 

“I think I’m confused,” Dan says. He says it all matter-of-factly and with the usual dramatic air. Like he’s performing, but Phil’s learned that’s just part of his personality. He’s an overachiever in everything. Phil can’t stand him. 

Phil nods his head again. Because, same. 

“You’re not making this easy.” 

Phil gapes. “You told me not to say anything!” 

Dan shakes his head, “Not now. Not just now. This whole thing. I just. Fuck.” His words stumble over each other and drop in a pile on the floor. 

“Dan, what are we doing?” 

Phil’s getting sick of it. The ridiculousness, the dancing around words, the everything. 

He sighs, “Can we just play Mario Kart? That’s easier, yeah?” 

Dan almost laughs, “Easier? And forget about all this?” 

“Yeah!” Phil exclaims. It would be so much easier. Phil is no stranger to taking the easy way out, he offers it to Dan like a gift. 

Dan shakes his head, “We can’t ignore it.” He doesn’t take it. 

“That’s what I’ve been doing.” 

That catches Dan. Maybe flips it all around for him. Because he just stares at Phil for another 30 seconds, mouth slightly open and brows knit together. Phil’s past the point of feeling anything, he’s letting his mouth say whatever it wants now. What’s there left to lose? 

Dan scoffs, “I don’t get you.” 

Phil makes a similar sound, “Ditto.” 

‘What the fuck, Phil? Are you mad?” 

He kind of sounds like it. Making throw away comments like they don’t mean anything. His wall is steadily being built back up in apathy. It’s all face. He cares so much. Dan can’t know that, though. 

Phil shrugs, “No.” 

He can tell Dan is trying not to roll his eyes or scoff again or swear. He’s fed up. So is Phil. About the same thing, he doesn’t know. 

They’re climbing closer to something here. Something that’s ready to burst. And Phil’s not sure either of them could control it or make it stop if they wanted to. That charge he feels might be destiny, or fate, or his million wishes coming true. It’s more than this, it’s part of something bigger. 

Phil hops up onto the counter, sitting with his back against the cupboards. He hopes it looked suave and easygoing, two things Phil has never been described as. 

“What have you been doing?” Dan asks. 

“Hmm?” Phil feins confusion. 

“What have you been ignoring?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Dan smiles like Phil’s said something cheeky. He kind of has, but he didn’t expect it to make Dan smile. 

“Phil. Come on.” 

“You first, Danny.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah?” 

Dan bursts out laughing. 

It’s too far. It’s way too far. Phil is entirely too proud of himself, hearing the laughter coming from Dan that is completely and totally because of him. He smiles, revealing a little bit of the shit he actually gives about this conversation. He probably wasn’t fooling anyone before. Jimmy and Bryony can attest to that. 

Dan calms down, covering his mouth with his hands. 

And then he frowns, “Shit. I’m so dumb.” 

Phil shakes his head, “No. Me.” 

“What the fuck am I doing?” Dan says to no one in particular. 

“Dunno,” Phil says like he was meant to answer. 

“Can we speak in full sentences please?” 

“I don’t like that. Alien stole my words, remember?” 

“What about the ones you’re saying?” 

“Left those. Less important.” 

Dan smiles wider, that stupid fond smile. Phil loves it, he wonders if Dan can feel his cheeks stretch or if he hasn’t noticed at all how much he’s doing it. Phil can’t feel his knees. He has no idea what’s happening but he’s guessing it’s good. The look on Dan’s face says it’s good. 

“I have a proposition,” Dan says. 

Phil quirks a brow, refusing to speak. Maybe it’s the stress, or this emotional rollercoaster they’re on, or the fact that he’s barely eaten today, but he feels silly and not entirely in control of himself. It feels good. 

Dan grins, “You little shit. Okay, one round of Mario Kart.” 

“And?” 

“And,” Dan says, thinking hard about his words. “Loser… answers whatever question I want to ask.” 

Phil pretends to be shocked, “What? You’re just assuming I’ll lose?” 

Dan laughs at him like it’s obvious, because it is. “Come on, Phil.” 

And because this feels good, Phil says, “Fine! But if you lose, you answer my question.” 

Dan snorts, “Like that’s gonna happen.” 

Phil wags his finger in front of Dan’s face. “You’ve been warned.” Dan reaches out from across the counter and bites at Phil’s finger. He’s not anywhere near it, but Phil pulls his finger back protectively anyway. 

He sets up the game while Dan wastes time on the sofa. He talks about nothing and Phil makes little hums as he connects the switch and his controllers to the tv. He’s nervous, actually. Because Dan is almost guaranteed to win this game, just like he always does. Phil’s not sure what Dan really wants to hear from Phil. It’d been all jokes before, and some half truths. But nothing too close to a real, up close confession. Phil’s already made one big move tonight. He’s not exactly sure how he might handle another. 

His self restraint has already crumbled to bits. He doesn’t want to make a bad move that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want Dan to be something he regrets, ever.

He sits next to Dan and hands him the controller. He moves his fingers weirdly so that their hands don’t touch. Dan looks at him, eyes blank. He definitely noticed. Phil makes a point not to look back at Dan. 

“You ready for this?” Dan asks. 

“I’m always ready, are you?” 

“Pft, you know I am.”

Phil smirks, ignoring the nerves vibrating inside him. “Don’t get cocky now, Howell. You haven’t won yet.” 

Dan chuckles, but doesn’t respond as the countdown begins. Phil can see his knee bouncing up and down in his periphery. They’re both nervous, maybe. Dan’s just so much better at pretending. 

They play two-player instead of online for the fairest race. It’s all about Dan and Phil now. They start off even in the middle, both getting the boost and yelling at the computers that get in their way. At first, they forget they’re playing against each other and with actual stakes. It’s just them having fun and playing a game they love. Phil thinks it’s never as much fun without Dan. 

It gets serious fast and they stop talking. They’re both way too focused on the game to banter. Dan finesses his way into first place, Phil trails behind in third. But that’s pretty normal for their usual races. Phil isn’t worried yet, this is just the first lap. 

Dan mutters, “Shit,” as a red shell knocks him backwards. 

It’s a good enough delay to get Phil speeding up behind him and into second place past whichever random character had the second spot. He’s right behind Dan, while the computers trail further and further behind. 

Dan is still in the lead until, by some kind of magic, a wild banana peel gets him knocked off over the edge of the track. Phil speeds to first place. 

“Yee!” 

“What the fuck?” Dan shouts, genuinely confused. “How the fuck did I even--?” 

Phil doesn’t say anything, suppressing giggles as he gets further ahead of Dan. 

“Fucking- Fuck!” 

He’s fully in the item clusterfuck by the time Phil enters lap three. Dan’s somewhere in the middle, placing 4th or 5th. Phil is too focused on his own screen to know. Dan is swearing and mumbling about the fairness of weirdly good computer players, clutching the small controller in his too big hands like it’s an actual steering wheel. 

“No..” Dan says as Phil rounds the corner to the finish line. 

Phil giggles, “Yes!” 

“No, you fucking aren’t. How the fuck?” 

“Yes!” Phil crosses the finish line. First place. He fucking won. He has no idea how he’s done it, by literal luck and luck alone. But still, he’s done it. 

Dan comes back and finishes in third, just a moment later. But he doesn’t even care. 

“I can’t believe you--” 

Phil smirks, triumphant and gloating. “I told you not to get cocky.” 

Dan frowns. “You’ve literally never won before.” 

“Hm, I think I have?” 

Dan chuckles, “I can’t believe it. Best two out of three?” 

“Nu-uh. A deal is a deal.” Phil drops the controller on the coffee table and turns to face Dan. 

He looks nervous and small again. Not because he didn’t win, he’s not a sore loser. He’s just - scared, Phil thinks. Phil is too. Neither of them have any idea what lies on the other side of this conversation. Phil could be funny, ask him if he likes Phil’s hair. Or ask him about Lacey, as a kind of compromise. 

But he knows he can’t keep ignoring this. He’s not sure he can pretend anymore. There’s too much at the surface now. 

It feels less tense than it did ten minutes ago. That’s been replaced by the adrenaline and joy that comes from competition. Dan’s smart like that. 

“Okay.” Phil says. He thinks of the best way to word this. The answer, well, it matters a lot. So the question has to be right. 

Dan waits patiently, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to keep eye contact with Phil. 

“Why are you confused?” It’s vague, open-ended. It gives Dan enough room to tell the truth, but not too much of it if he doesn’t want to. 

This thing is so precious to Phil. The sudden friendship and connection they have. He doesn’t want to ruin it. 

“Um,” Dan says for the millionth time. “So.” 

“So?” Phil prompts.

“Stop it, I’m trying.” His face falls a little. He chews harder on his lip. Phil stares openly. 

He wedges his hands under his thighs, trapping them. He doesn’t trust any of his limbs not to do something stupid, like reach out.

Dan takes a breath. “So. I don’t know what I’m doing. But. I think I might. Feel something.” 

“Something?” 

“For you.” Dan nods. 

Phil has entered an alternate universe, Dan isn’t real. This can’t be real. But… maybe it can. 

“You have a girlfriend,” he blurts. 

Dan nods. 

“Why?” It’s a dumb question, but it’s the one Phil hasn’t been able to stop wondering about for weeks. 

Dan takes another breath, “I don’t know.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. Phil wants to know more, so much more. He has a billion questions, but Dan only agreed to one. Dan looks at him nervously, eyebrows up and drawn together. And then Phil remembers that he should probably say something. 

He says, “I feel things too. That’s what I’ve been ignoring, the feelings.” Dan can’t be the only one here baring his soul, that’s not fair. 

Dan nods. He might’ve already known. Phil isn’t very subtle. 

Phil bites his lip. He has to be honest now. “I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore.” 

He watches Dan’s face fall. It happens in slow motion as Phil tracks the disappointment spread. He sees Dan feel it in his stomach. He wishes he could go back to a few minutes ago when everything was silly. Click his heels three times or turn back a clock he doesn’t own. This is too much. Phil doesn’t feel ready for it. 

Dan looks at the floor between their feet. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Phil stares at the top of Dan’s head, willing him to look back up at him. He has to ask. “Are you gay?” 

Dan shakes his head, sighs. He opens his mouth to answer, closes it, flaps his hands around like it makes sense. He messes with his hair. He looks everywhere but Phil. He does everything but answer. 

Eventually, he says, “I don’t fucking know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	10. Chapter 10

The food arrives and they hit pause. 

The elevator ride down has Phil going over the whole conversation in his head. It doesn’t make sense, but it does. 

Dan’s sexuality isn’t something Phil can just figure out on his own, but Dan doesn’t seem to have any more of an idea than Phil. And also, he looked terrified. 

But, Dan said he feels something. Phil can’t stop replaying it, the moment when Dan said that. So, he wasn’t just deluding himself. 

*

They eat mostly in silence. Phil makes small comments here and there. Dan just looks at his hands and wipes his mouth after every bite. He starts gathering up the trash as soon as he’s finished. It looks like he’s getting ready to leave, and Phil suddenly wants nothing more than for him to stay. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he blurts. 

Dan turns around to lean against the counter, looking at Phil from across the room where he sits on the sofa. They keep doing this - making space between them like it’s too much to be close. The look on Dan’s face is sad and slightly smug. Phil’s not sure how he’s managed to do both at once. 

“Phil.” He says it softly, like he’s getting ready to disappoint him. 

Phil shakes his head, “We don’t have to. We can do something else.” 

Dan thinks about it, taps his fingers on his legs in thoughtful order. Maybe he’s playing a part of a song, subconsciously. Phil wonders how many he’s got stored in his brain. Probably one for every occasion. 

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“Don’t leave,” Phil says. He gets up and walks over to stand between Dan and the door. He hasn’t made any moves toward it, but Phil’s afraid he might bolt if he says the wrong thing. 

Dan takes a few breaths and, “Okay.” 

*

“You know how there are some freckles you’ve had your whole life? They’re the ones you’ve memorized and know are always there. But then, there’s freckles and spots that show up later, like after a day when you’ve been out in the sun too long or the ones on your nose that only come in summer?” Dan says. He hasn’t been paying attention to whatever Phil put on the tv for them to watch. Phil can tell. It’s like he’s looking past the television, or through it. 

Dan looks at his arm now, at a particular freckle next to the bend of his elbow. 

Phil nods. “I think so, yeah.” 

Dan touches his arm, pulls at the skin so the spot of brown stretches. He rubs at it like it might go away. “Yeah, I think that’s what it’s like.” 

Phil doesn’t know what he means, but he nods his head like he understands. He guesses that’s what you’re supposed to do in these situations, when all you can do is listen. So that’s what he does, as Dan tries to make sense of what’s going on here, what’s going on with him. 

“Because... it’s a part of me, “ Dan says. “But, it wasn’t always there.” 

Oh. Phil does understand. Maybe. 

“Even if it was, I didn’t see it. Until now.” 

It’s a weird metaphor, but Dan’s still looking at the freckle on his arm. Maybe he sees it like that, a freckle that he can’t erase no matter how hard he tries. A permanent, unwanted mark on him. At least, it seems a little unwanted based on how he frowns. 

He’s so pretty here, in the soft fairy lights and the safety of Phil’s flat. He lets Phil see him so openly, even though it’s terrifying. Phil can’t help but notice, can’t help but stare. He never wants Dan to leave. 

Phil tilts his head. “Wait. Am I a freckle?” 

Dan snorts, letting a small grin slip onto his face. “No. You’re… you’re something else.” He turns back to the show, not letting Phil meet his gaze. 

Maybe Dan is the alien stealing all of Phil’s words, because he feels speechless for the millionth time today. 

“Something else?” he repeats. They’re the only words left, bouncing around in his brain. 

Dan looks off into space. “I don’t know yet.” 

Phil spends the rest of the night staring at Dan’s profile and wondering when he’ll ever escape the maze. Right now, it feels like every turn leads to a dead end. 

*

“Did you always know?” Dan says, speaking into the darkness of Phil’s bedroom. 

They’re lying in Phil’s bed. Which is probably very weird and very not allowed. There’s so much space between them that Phil knows he’d fall right onto the floor if he moved even an inch to the left. Dan tries to take up as little space as possible, which is actually a lot considering how tall he is. 

Phil couldn’t stand the idea of Dan leaving. Part of him thinks that once Dan leaves, he’ll never see him again. Or maybe he’ll see him in the hall and the laundry room, but they’ll never speak again. Phil has known guys like Dan before, closeted boys that come around to have a little fun and then wave to him from across campus while holding their girlfriend’s hand. All the boys that have left Phil wanting. A little broken, but mostly embarrassed that he let them in in the first place. 

But Dan… is just Dan. He’s everything. He’s wormed his way into Phil’s head and maybe his heart too. Phil can’t let him go just yet. 

Dan said he could sleep on Phil’s couch, but Phil had insisted. Friends can sleep in the same bed. It’s not a big deal. And maybe Phil just didn’t want to take his eyes off Dan for a little longer. 

Now they’re under the covers together and it feels like a very big deal. Phil didn’t even take his jeans off. They’re both just, fully clothed and wide awake. 

Phil clears his throat, “Uh. Kind of.” 

Dan doesn’t say anything, just curls his hand around the sheet and pulls more of it his way. 

Phil goes on, “Like, puberty hit and girls were definitely not on little Philly’s mind. But hot, shirtless guys on the beach… were noticed. A lot.” 

“And people, like, know?” 

Phil nods, even though Dan’s not looking at him and it’s too dark to see. “Yeah, I’m out. Even the bloody shop worker down the road knows. Sometimes I just blurt it out when people mention something about relationships and assume I’m straight.” 

“You didn’t tell me,” Dan says, quiet and hesitant. 

Phil’s heart beats faster now. “Yeah.” 

“Why not?” Dan’s so much more talkative in the dark, when Phil can’t see what faces he makes. 

“Well, I didn’t want to scare you.” 

“Being - what you are - isn’t scary.” 

Phil frowns. “You can’t even say it.” It’s a bit harsh and a bit bold for the speed at which these conversations are happening. Phil is trying so hard not to be angry with Dan, or hurt that Phil is just some kind of experiment for him. 

He’s already hurt, though. Hurt, because Dan feels things and there’s nothing they can do about it. Because Dan isn’t doing anything about it. And angry with himself for caring so much, for caring at all. He did all the things he knew he shouldn’t, and now he’s stuck dealing with all the shit consequences. 

He’s the one who asked Dan to stay the night, he can’t forget. Can’t blame Dan for that. But, Dan had been the one to say okay. 

They’re both fucking stupid. 

“I’m sorry.” Dan sounds so small. Phil thinks he might be crying or trying not to. 

He looks over and all he can see is the vague blur of something human-shaped lying next to him. His glasses are tossed on the floor somewhere and he can’t be bothered to reach for them. 

He reaches for Dan. Part of the way to him, he drops his hand on the mattress between them. 

“I’m sorry. That was mean,” Phil says. 

He thinks he sees Dan shake his head. “But you’re right. I can’t say it.” 

His hand stays where it is, limp and useless. “Why not?” 

“I’m fucking scared.” 

“You said it wasn’t scary.” 

Dan coughs, holding down the lump in his throat. “I’m scared of what it might mean. For me.” 

Phil tilts his head closer to Dan, closing the gap just a little. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.” 

“I don’t know how to do that.” 

Phil can see Dan’s eyes a little better now that he’s closer. They’re blurry, but not shapeless. They’re looking at Phil, open wide and staring into the darkness. Phil wonders what he sees, if he sees Phil there in front of him or just a silhouette. It’s strange to him that some people can see perfectly every time they open their eyes, without the help of squishy contacts stuck to their eyes or magnifying glasses strapped to their face. 

“Can you see me?” Phil asks, out of the blue and without explanation. 

Dan answers, “Yeah. Can you not see me?” 

Phil shakes his head. “I took my glasses off. It’s dark.” 

“You’re that blind?” He doesn’t sound as small or choked. Phil is too glad. 

“As a bat. It’s kind of scary. You could hit me in the face and I’d never see it coming.” 

Dan snorts, “Now you’re just giving me ideas.” 

Phil squeezes his eyes shut and holds up his hands in front of his face. “Please don’t! I’m too pretty!” 

Dan is quiet for a moment and then, “Yeah.” 

When Phil opens his eyes, Dan’s close enough for Phil to see his whole face clearly. He’s close enough that Phil can feel his breath on his face too. Their noses touch and Phil’s heart drops into his stomach. 

They stay there, a breath apart. 

*

When he wakes up, Dan is gone. His shoes are gone from where he toed them off by the door and his side of the bed has been made up. All traces of Dan have been erased from Phil’s home. 

Phil’s phone is dead too. He forgot to plug it in last night with his mind so focused on other, more important things. He reaches under his bed and flails his hand around until he finds it. He plugs it into the charger and shoves it under his pillow. If he has any texts from Dan, he wants to read them after he’s had a calm and normal and boring morning. 

He starts with a shower. And he cries a little while he stands under the spray. It starts in his stomach. It’s a gut feeling that everything is different and a fear that everything is ruined and a knowledge that it won’t be the fairytale ending he’d been hoping for. The sobs come up into his throat and burst forth without warning. Small, choked noises come in spurts and a few tears drip down his face, mixing in with the shower water that drips from his hair. He sniffs, takes a few breaths, and then it stops. His brain goes quiet and he finishes washing his hair. He doesn’t have to be so dramatic. 

After, he eats a bowl of cereal on the sofa while watching one of PJ’s Youtube videos. It’s a timelapse of him drawing one of the main characters from Internet Zombies. PJ talks over the video about developing the art style along with the narrative while his hand speedily draws and colors in Phil’s favorite character from the comic. It’s so lovely to even hear PJ’s voice that he’s almost in a good mood after it’s over. 

He washes the milk out of his bowl, spraying water onto the stomach of his tshirt. The bowl is left in the sink to deal with later. His patience is almost thoroughly worn through at this point. 

His bedroom is a mess, so he pretends to tidy a few things before grabbing at his phone. He has to type his password in since it’s fully restarted from the battery being dead. His shaky fingers slip, he presses 0 instead of 9 and has to type it in again. His apps load up slowly and notifications start to pop up on his email. There’s a little red “1” next to his messages app. 

It’s not from Dan. There’s nothing from Dan. It’s past 11 o’clock now and Dan hasn’t said a word to him. Not a text or a voicemail or bloody note on his pillow. Phil looks under Dan’s pillow too, just in case. He knows it’s daft to even hope, but he still does. There’s nothing. Dan is just gone. 

Phil thinks it’s probably forever. 

*

Bryony is a good friend. She makes Phil coffee while he hides in a blanket cocoon on her sofa. 

He’d arrived a mess, barely making any sense as he recited the events of the night before. She shoved him inside and onto the sofa, made him drink a glass of water and take five deep breaths before having him go over everything again, but slowly this time. 

“Fucking coward,” she’d said. It made Phil feel better, but also a little worse. 

He’d shaken his head. “I don’t want to be angry with him.” 

“That’s fine. I can be.” 

He shrugged. “This shit is hard, Bry. Like, sexuality and all that. Especially when you’ve been ignoring it for so long.” 

“You can’t let him hurt you like this.”

“I’m not.” 

The face she’d made said she didn’t believe him. 

But none of that mattered, because Phil needed cheering up and Bryony knew just how to do that. She put on his favorite episodes of Buffy and gave him all of her best blankets and supplied him with enough popcorn to last him the day. 

She hands him a mug of coffee now, folding both hands around it so he doesn’t drop it. She sits down next to him, pulling at the end of one of the blankets to cover her feet. 

“How’re you doing?” 

Phil shrugs, “M’fine.” He slurps the hot coffee and lets the warm feeling seep through his bones. This cup of coffee is literally the only thing he cares about right now. 

Bry makes a face. “But what are you thinking?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“A fucking lot.” 

“How?” He’s letting himself be a little insufferable. He gets to do that with Bryony. 

She hums, “Hm, how about because you never let yourself feel anything? But you sure do think a fucking lot.” 

“Big head, big brain,” he says. 

She snorts, “You’re full of shit.” It reminds him so much of Dan. 

He checks his phone. No messages, no calls. Nothing. Bryony slaps it out of his hand. 

“Careful! Coffee!” he says, holding the mug out of the way of anymore flailing limbs. 

“I don’t care! You’ve got to stop that.” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re obsessing.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I was just checking.” 

She points a finger in his face. “Don’t make me take it away. I’ll hide it somewhere you’ll never find.” 

“You’re not my mum,” he says, sticking his tongue out at her. He really is just reverting back to Phil as a child, Phil as a teenager, Phil as someone who actually knew who he was. 

Phil as an adult… just doesn’t know. 

Bryony quirks a brow, “Don’t make me get her on the phone. You know what she’ll say.” 

He huffs, “Please keep my mother out of this. I don’t need an “everything happens for a reason” lecture today.” 

His mum almost always says exactly what Phil needs to hear, which is part of the problem. He doesn’t want to feel hopeful or proud of doing the right thing or whatever he did. He just wants to feel sad. He wants to feel bad because Dan didn’t choose him. He wants to feel shitty because Dan can’t even say the word “gay.” He just wants to sit and wallow, because it’s one of the things he rarely allows himself to do. Except for recently. He’s been doing it a lot recently. Mostly because of Dan. For some reason, Dan just makes every bad feeling feel a bit more bad. 

He sighs, “Not that she would be wrong.” 

*  
They laze the whole day away. Bryony catches Phil up on all he’s missed in her life over the last few weeks of him being consumed by only Dan things. The best part is all the office gossip. It’s a nice distraction and a nice reminder that other people exist in the world. Other people with other problems that are not Phil and not Phil’s problems. It helps his self pity to remember that. 

He keeps checking his phone sneakily so that Bry doesn’t notice. Hours pass, and still nothing happens. His brain starts thinking up all the possible reasons why Dan might not have at least texted him by now. 

Maybe Dan had a family emergency, but Dan never talks to his family. Maybe he had a meeting with one of the super important music people he met at the showcase, but he probably would have told Phil about that. Maybe he smashed his phone on the sidewalk while he was walking to get Phil flowers, but that’s just completely made up. Maybe he typed out a message and forgot to hit send. 

But, probably, he just has nothing to say.

His phone buzzes loudly under his thigh as another Buffy episode ends. He jumps and pulls it out to check as fast as he can. And, it’s not Dan. It’s an email from his agent. It’s probably important and he should probably open it now. But, he doesn’t. He tosses his phone across the room. It bounces onto an armchair and slides backwards onto the carpet. 

He groans, frustrated and fed up with any kind of residual hope. 

Bryony puts a hand on his arm. “It’s going to be okay, Phil. There’s other fish, and all that.” 

Phil frowns. Bryony should be right. He can imagine meeting another gorgeous stranger in a coffee shop, spilling coffee all over him and offering to buy him a new shirt. He can imagine this stranger - this stranger with a face that isn’t Dan’s - letting Phil buy him a new shirt, but maybe it doesn’t end there. In this universe, they go back to Phil’s place and have some more coffee and talk about their childhoods and share secrets and everything feels right. 

Maybe in this universe they fall in love easily. Everything is right and perfect and they stick together like magnets meant for each other. Phil would prove Jimmy wrong and it wouldn’t be so hard. It wouldn’t hurt so damn much. 

But in Phil’s head, when he’s with this stranger, all he can think about is Dan. All he can see in this pretend person’s face is Dan. Dan’s stupid eyes and big nose and chapped lips and frizzy hair. Dan’s stupid long fingers playing piano, Dan’s long legs stretched across Phil’s sofa, and Dan’s arms squeezing tight around Phil. 

He shakes his head. Bryony looks lost. 

“No, Bry.” There’s no explanation for it, but his head is suddenly so clear that nothing else makes sense except for him and Dan - together. 

“What?” 

He’s struck with the wrongness of what she’s just said. His head keeps shaking. “No.” 

“No what?” 

“There are no other fish.” 

“Phil, you can’t--” 

He cuts her off, “Why not?” 

“Because. You can’t make him love you, Phil. You know that.” 

Phil shakes his head again, squinting his eyes like Dan always does. “But, I mean, I don’t have to.” 

“Phil.”

“No, Bry. He’s it. He’s fucking it. It sounds silly, I know. It’s mental, but. Dan is… he’s it.. He is. I know he is. And--” 

He’s breathing hard. It’s just too much and he’s not about to cry about it. Not in front of Bryony when he’s already made a fool of himself by showing how much he cares. But everything has bubbled up to the surface now. He’s overflowing. 

“It sucks,” he says, finally. “It sucks so bad, you know? That, like, that bloke is my goddamn soulmate and I can’t even be with him? Like, how shit is the world that the one person that has always been out there for me - is with someone else. He’s… he’s with someone else.” 

Bryony doesn’t say anything, she just listens and nods like Phil had done the night before while Dan talked. 

And then he says, “I don’t even hate Lacey. Like, she’s nice. She’s not in love with Dan, but she doesn’t deserve to be messed with.” 

Bryony looks at her hands like she doesn’t know what to say. “But, do you actually think?” 

“That he’s my soulmate? Yeah. I really, truly, honestly do.” It’s not even a hope, or a dream, or a wish. It’s true. Phil can feel it in his soul, which, he guesses, is kind of the point. He feels it so deeply that he can’t pretend it isn’t there anymore. 

But then, he thinks about the reality of Dan and whether he’ll ever actually speak to Phil again. 

He says, “What happens? What happens if you miss your soulmate? Like, what if I’d never even met Dan? Or, if that guy at the show we saw last month that chatted you up was actually your soulmate? I mean, you didn’t give him your number but if you had--” 

She cuts him off, “Phil. That guy was a dick.” 

“I know, I’m just saying--” 

He’s gone full conspiracy theory trying to make sense of everything. There’s no written rules to this soulmate thing, especially when it’s not like everyone says it is. 

“You’re freaking yourself out, mate.” 

“I mean, yeah. But it doesn’t make sense, does it?” 

Dan might be gone, and Phil might have to live the rest of his life knowing his soulmate passed him by. Does that mean he’ll be alone forever? Or that he’ll have to make himself happy with whoever else might come along?

Phil knows Dan and him are something that’s inevitable, he just doesn’t know how they’ll get there. 

Bryony shrugs. She isn’t a cynic, but she has a hard time believing like Phil does. She’s not as earnest or unashamed. “A lot of love is luck,” she says. 

It hits him, because that does make sense. Maybe it isn’t just the stars aligning or souls that are meant to be, you’ve got to be just lucky enough that it all falls into place. 

The good thing is, Phil believes in luck. 

His phone rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	11. Chapter 11

It’s not Dan, which is just Phil’s luck. It’s Jimmy, actually. A photo of him from four years ago passed out drunk on their old couch from uni and a sharpie mustache drawn on his face pops up on Phil’s phone.

He taps the green answer button and shakes his head at Bryony. Her face falls, like she cares whether or not it’s Dan calling.

“Ello?”

“How’d it go?” Jimmy asks, enthusiastic and too bright in Phil’s ear.

“How did what go?”

“You met up with Dan, right?”

Oh. Right.

“Oh. Right,” he says uselessly.

“Well?” He’s so hopeful. Phil hates it.

“It’s- kind of complicated,” is all he musters.

Jimmy’s quiet like he thinks Phil will say more and then, “What?! You’re really not going to tell me?”

“I mean, I just--” He just really doesn’t want to be thinking about it any more than he already has. And he’d just rather not tell the story again. Jimmy is most definitely going to give Phil some kind of false hope he’s been desperately trying to avoid since last night. Jimmy’s inherent romanticism will pull and pull until Phil ends up down another potentially self sabotaging rabbit hole.

He looks to Bryony for help, eyes wide. She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. Phil’s on his own.

He’s trying to be realistic. Jimmy, foolish-in-love-Jimmy, will not help Phil be realistic right now.

“It wasn’t great, okay?”

“What the fuck? Did he… do something?”

Phil shakes his head, “Jimmy, no. He.. he… He’s fine.”

“But you’re not?” There’s an edge to his voice now.

Phil steps on each word like it might fall out from under him at any moment. “I am, you know. I’m hanging with Bry. I’m fine.”

“So, it wasn’t great, but you’re both fine?” Jimmy says, seeing right through him.

“I’m good, actually.”

“Mate. I’m not sure I believe you.”

Phil huffs, “What do you want me to say, Jimmy?”

“Exactly what I asked. What. Happened.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, begging himself not to get upset with Jimmy for absolutely no reason. He’s dizzy from all the twists this emotional rollercoaster has taken so far.

He takes a breath and says, “I don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”

“Oh,” he says, less enthusiastic. Phil hates disappointing him, even though it’s Phil’s shit and not anyone else’s, he still hates the drop in Jimmy’s voice on the other line. “Alright, mate. Talk later, that’s fine. Do you need anything?”

“I-” He’s about to say he’s fine again, when his phone starts vibrating against his cheek.

What?

He holds it out to see who else is calling and… It’s Dan. Of course it is.

Phil stares at his phone for what feels like a minute, maybe two. Because he really didn’t expect this. Dan’s name lighting up on his home screen was the last thing he thought he’d see tonight. And he’s calling.

Phil’s phone continues to ring and vibrate in his hand. He does nothing. He’s gone completely still. He feels frozen, like he might never move again. He’ll become a permanent apartment fixture in Bryony’s lounge. That would be a conversation starter for anyone she has come round.

The call ends and Phil moves his arm at a snail’s pace back to his ear.

“Hey, Jim? I’m gonna have to call you back later.”

“Okay--” Phil doesn’t let him finish. He ends the call and shoves his phone deep into the sofa cushions before slumping against it, wishing it would swallow him up.

“Wait, was that him? The fuck, Phil?” Bryony reaches for his phone but Phil pulls her arm away.

“No! Don’t!”

“Don’t you want to talk to him?”

The answer is yes. Or, it should be. There’s something, he’s not sure what, that holds him back. Something that is constantly imagining the worst. Like, Dan yelling at him for letting it go too far. Dan telling him they shouldn’t be friends anymore. Dan telling him it was all a big mistake.

Dan… not wanting him.

Phil believes in luck, he’s just not sure how much of it he’s got. His life so far has been average, not completely void of hardship but not overwhelmed by it either. A 6/10 on a 1-10 scale, if you want to measure it that way. Phil doesn’t, it makes him feel obligated. Obligated to calculate his gains and losses. Like he constantly needs to analyze the parts of his life that already do his head in - the stuff that makes it feel like a rollercoaster. Like now, suddenly life’s spinning him upside down when it was supposed to be a normal loop on the way to the less scary bits.

Dan is slowly but surely getting higher on that list. Phil’s just not sure if he’s another upside down turn or that stomach swooping downhill slide.

He shakes his head.

“You don’t?” Bryony asks, quiet and sensitive.

Phil probably looks like he’s on a precipice, Bryony knows when not to push him over the edge. She treads carefully now.

Phil opens his mouth, closes it. He swallows nothing, his throat too dry, the words stuck there.

He opens his mouth again. “I don’t know.”

“You’re scared?” It’s okay that it’s obvious. It’s okay that he is, which is probably what Bry will tell him.

He feels too exposed here. Her eyes on him are too knowing.

He nods.

“It’s okay to be scared.” Phil lets a grin slip through. He likes it when he’s not the only predictable one. “It’s a scary thing.”

He nods again. She doesn’t have to tell him, it’s still nice to hear.

“What are you going to do?”

He opens his mouth to form some words he only half-believes when his phone vibrates again. It’s a short jolt and the screen lights up with a text.

Phil grabs it from between the sofa cushions before Bryony can see who it’s from.

It’s Dan. Right, that makes sense.

can we talk

It’s too straightforward to give anything away. Phil wonders if maybe Dan has been doing the same thing, puttering around his flat all day trying to think of what to say to Phil. And this is all he’s come up with. Huh.

“Is it from Dan?”

Phil nods, wishing himself invisible.

He thinks about his reply for far too long. And then he thinks, fuck it. He presses the call button before he can talk himself out of it. He’s on the fucking rollercoaster, might as well see what’s next if he can.

He walks into Bryony’s mess of a bedroom and closes the door behind him before she can say anything else. It’s nice in here, dim and cluttered and lavender scented. Her bed is covered in multicolored quilts. He sits on the floor out of sight from the door, just in case.

Dan answers on the third ring.

“Er, hello?” Dan says, hoarse and caught off guard. Phil’s breath catches at the sound of his voice, like it hasn’t been just a few hours since he’s seen him last.

“Hi, it’s me. It’s Phil,” as if they suddenly live in a world where people pick up their phone without looking at the caller ID first.

Dan coughs and clears his throat, “Yeah, I know.”

“Right. Well, you called.” He messes with the holes in one of Bryony’s knitted blankets falling down the side of the bed. It gives his hands something to do, at least.

“No, you called.”

“You called before.”

“You didn’t answer.” They’re just stating facts now. Phil guesses it’s easier than saying - what they actually need to.

“I’m calling you back now.”

There’s shuffling around on the other line and then a sound like a piano lid closing noisily.

“Are you home?”

Phil shakes his head to an empty room. “No.”

“We should probably talk,” Dan says, accomplishing nothing, really.

It bothers Phil that he won’t just say what he’s thinking outright, but it takes two to tango.

“Yeah.” Phil doesn’t normally dance.

He hears Dan sigh, exasperated or something. “Can you come to mine?”

“No,” Phil says. Also accomplishing nothing.

He imagines Dan frowning, sitting on the edge of the piano bench and chewing on his bottom lip. It’s too vivid an image. He blinks and stares intently at Bryony’s pastel colored duvet, trying to recenter himself in reality.

“Well. I want to see you,” Dan huffs.

It throws Phil, how resolute and final it sounds. “Um. Why?”

“Fuck, Phil. Just meet me at fucking Starbucks, will you?”

Phil almost doesn’t like the tone of Dan’s voice here. He sounds mad, or frustrated, or annoyed. None of which Phil really wants to see live and in action, especially after what happened last night. The worst case scenarios he’d imagined earlier definitely don’t help his nervous heart.

“Are you sure?” he croaks.

There’s silence on the other line. Phil wonders if those were the wrong words. He does want to see Dan. That’s why he called back, right?

They’re playing a game of table tennis at this point.

After a seemingly endless silence, Dan says, “Yeah, I’m sure.” Phil imagines Dan’s face softening at his question, because the words come out smoother now.

“Please?” he adds when Phil doesn’t say anything.

Phil smiles into the palm of his hand, hoping whatever ghosts live in Bryony’s room don’t rat him out.

“What time?”

*

He makes it out of Bryony’s flat without drama. Almost. After promising Bry a hundred times that he’ll call her after everything has been said and done, she lets him leave without protest. Whatever everything means.

By the time he’s out in the London streets and on the way to the place he first met Dan, the sun has started to go down. It had been gone all day, hiding behind the usual array of clouds and fog. It’s made a special appearance for sunset, it seems.

Phil smiles to himself, shoving his crossed fingers deep into the pockets of his jeans. He’d asked Dan that first night they hung out in Phil’s flat, drunk on cheap wine and bellies full of pizza, whether he was a sun or a moon person.

“What d’you mean?” Dan had asked.

“I mean, which do you prefer?”

Dan had giggled and shouted, “The fucking moon! Duh. It’s not hot, it doesn’t burn you or make you sweat, and the moon is witchy and cool.”

“Witchy and cool?” Phil teased.

Dan grinned, stretching out across Phil’s sofa. “Yeah, mate. Moon beats sun any day.”

Phil thinks about it now as he watches the sky turn orange and purple and pink. He didn’t disagree with Dan. The moon means magic to him. He’s always been obsessed with space and the stars and all the secrets it holds. But, there’s something about the sun.

Something that feels entirely wrapped up in Dan. It always seems brighter when he sees Dan. The two seem tied together in a completely unscientific way, but Phil still believes maybe it means something.

He feels like a hero in a movie and he’s marching towards a destiny. Or a fight, he’s not sure yet. He’s still on that fucking precipice.

At least it’s not raining.

*

Dan is already there when Phil arrives. He’s saving a table in the corner with a drink in his hand. There’s another too, pushed towards the other chair.

Phil walks over, hands still in his pockets and shoulders slightly turned in. He doesn’t want to take up too much space.

“Dan?” He looks up at Phil and Phil watches as he tries not to grin. “Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes.

They both push down smiles, not wanting to be caught in whatever private joke makes them want to laugh. Now that Dan’s looking at him, he doesn’t feel so nervous or afraid. There’s people dotted around the shop working on their laptops. If Dan were going to yell at him, he wouldn’t do it somewhere so public. Maybe that’s why he suggested it, Phil thinks.

“Sit down, you goof,” Dan says.

Phil does and he picks up the drink Dan scoots in front of him. “For me?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says, a knee jerk response that exists just to be polite. He’ll drink the coffee no matter what Dan says.

Dan shrugs, “Yeah.”

He sips his coffee. It’s sweet and just a little bitter.

“Thanks,” he says.

Dan taps his fingers on the table with nervous energy. There’s some rhythm to it that Phil doesn’t recognize. He likes that Dan’s predictable too, just like Bry. This is something Dan just does and Phil knows that he does. There’s comfort in that familiarity.

“Um,” Dan starts.

Phil waits, ready to listen. He’s hoping maybe this will fill in some of the gaps that exist in the Dan that’s made a home in Phil’s brain.

More tapping. Phil has the urge to reach out and squeeze Dan’s hands to make him stop. He doesn’t. He waits.

There’s so much to say, but Phil doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how.

“So, I’m sorry for leaving.”

“Oh.” Phil hadn’t really been expecting that. He especially hadn’t been expecting any kind of apology. He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Dan stresses.

“I get it though. It was a lot and you needed time to think and it’s not like I expected you to stay.” It’s not fair for Phil to expect anything from Dan right now, even if it did surprise him to wake up to an empty bed. He’s learned through the years that it’s a hell of a way to disappoint yourself.

Dan looks surprised that Phil isn’t putting up more of a fight. “Well, I’m still sorry that I didn’t say anything when I did leave.”

“Thanks for making up your side of the bed.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but it’s a little too bitter and harsh sounding to be any kind of funny.

“I didn’t mean to--” Dan stops. Phil desperately wants to hear the other end of that sentence.

Dan taps three fingers against his cup. 1, 2, 3. Phil imagines the notes if he were pressing piano keys. A memory drops into his brain - there’s spilled coffee everywhere and crumpled sheets of paper.

Dan’s stays silent. He looks out the window at the setting sun and Phil can’t help himself.

“What was that song?”

Dan jolts and turns back to Phil, “Huh?”

“The song.” He changes course so quickly he’s not even sure Dan knows where they are.

“Uh, what song?”

“The one I spilled coffee all over.”

The place where it happened is only a few tables over. Someone’s stretched their computer charger all the way to the wall again. Phil sees it and wonders how many people have tripped over chords in this Starbucks. He wonders how many of them ended up like him and Dan. Probably not many. They’re both too weird.

Dan grins, remembering. “It’s the one I played at the showcase. Not that it matters.”

Phil’s heart flutters. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“No one really cares about my original pieces. They’re not genius classics, it’s not like I’ve written a new age _Fur Elise_.”

“ _Fur Elise_ has nothing on you,” Phil says before he can think better of it.

Dan’s smile widens. He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re changing the subject.”

“Hm. Maybe so.” He feels giggly. “I didn’t ruin it?” he asks.

“No? I mean, a whole section got all blurred together. I had to rewrite it.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Dan shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I like it better this way.”

Phil’s head is reeling. He feels like he’s stood up too fast, but he’s still sitting firmly in the chair across from Dan.

“Oh, good.” Maybe Dan doesn’t mean anything by it, but it feels pointed. Specifically, pointed at Phil.

He feels Dan’s shoe touch the toe of his own under the table. It’s not on purpose, he can tell by the way Dan’s face catches at the contact. But he doesn’t bolt away like most people would at an accidental touch. Dan doesn’t move his foot, he leaves it touching Phil’s and pushes against it. Phil pushes back. It’s so weird, he has no idea what he’s doing. But it feels good to push back.

And Dan isn’t yelling at him.

The fingers on Phil’s left hand have been crossed the entire time, squeezing out the last bit of luck he might have. He lets them uncurl in his pocket. He doesn’t need luck for something that’s already meant to be.

“I talked to Lacey,” Dan says.

Phil chokes on his coffee. He coughs and splutters and tries to act totally cool about it. Dan just suppresses a laugh, hands him a napkin and waits for him to calm down.

When he’s finally stopped coughing, he says, “Oh?”

Dan nods, “Yeah.”

“How did that go?” Phil asks, not ready for another bout of silence.

“I mean,” Dan starts. “Fuck. She and I… she’s been my best friend for ages. Like, the only friend I ever had in London since I moved here. For a while, it was just us. And I relied on her for everything. Probably more than I should have.”

Phil thinks about his and Dan’s laundry day, how Lacey had been the one to know about their building’s amenities and how frustrated she had been with Dan. He had thought she’d been too harsh on him, making him feel dumb and small. But, Phil never knew the whole story. He barely knows anything about Lacey and Dan’s relationship. He filled in the gaps with his own assumptions, completely fueled by emotion and care for Dan. Phil tries to forget everything he thought before.

He sees the wave of guilt pass over Dan’s face. It’s not unfounded, but Dan’s been known to be too hard on himself. His heart pulls him too close.

Dan continues, “It’s been a mess for a while. Or, at least, I have. She’s… amazing. She has all of her shit together and she knows exactly where she’s going in life. I can’t keep up. I’m still trying to figure out a lot of shit about myself - you know. She always says I’m not weighing her down, but I am. I can see it.”

He runs a hand through his curls, pushing them off his forehead. Phil puts his shoe on top of Dan’s, hoping that it helps. No matter what, this is a lot.

“I love her.” It hurts to hear it, but not as much as Phil had expected. He listens as Dan goes on, “God, fuck, do I love her. But, I don’t think I’ve been in love with her for a long time. There’s a reason why I didn’t just move in with her like we planned. I was going to, before I moved to where I am now. But - everything just started to shift. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Phil understands it a lot more than he thought he would. He’s never been closeted and in a relationship, but he knows what it feels like to walk into the family kitchen every morning and to pretend like everything is fine - when it’s not. He knows what it’s like to be playing this game of pretend between himself and the people he cares about most. It’s like living half a life, feeling half invisible and half seen. No one can live like that for long, Phil knows. Dan’s stretched himself thin trying to make it work.

“So, I told her that - I like guys,” Dan says. “I didn’t tell her about you, I didn’t know if you’d want me to, but I told her everything else. Though I think she probably already knew. She didn’t say so which was nice of her. Not that she really needs to be nice to me after I did that to her. It’s so shitty.”

Phil reaches out now. He tugs on one of Dan’s long fingers and holds it between them.

He smiles. “It’s hard and, yeah, it’s shitty. But, all you can do is tell the truth now,” Phil says.

He still doesn’t even know what Dan’s truth is.

Dan smiles back and it doesn’t reach his eyes, but it doesn’t feel like a lie either. “I don’t know what I am, Phil.”

Phil wants to pull him into a hug and never let him go and make him popcorn and keep him safe from every danger in the world. He wants - a lot with Dan.

He says, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know.”

Dan looks at Phil, weighing whether or not to say what’s in his head. Phil waits. He doesn’t want to push Dan into anything he’s not ready for. Even if it means giving him up, Phil would learn to be okay.

“I know I like you. And I know I had a really good time the other night,” Dan says, his cheeks going red.

Something in Phil’s chest swells. Phil squeezes Dan’s finger. “You hog the duvet, you know?”

“Oi! I do not!”

Dan kicks his feet at Phil and the table shakes. Phil clutches his coffee to keep it from tipping over. Another coffee spillage is just what they need right now.

“You definitely do!”

“Shut up, nerd.”

Phil giggles. Then, he frowns a little. “I missed you in the morning.”

A truth for a truth.

Dan stops smiling. “I’m sorry I’m such a dick.”

Phil unwraps his hand from around Dan’s finger and spreads his fingers across Dan’s knuckles. It’s all the bravery he can find within him.

“You’re not. I’m trying to tell the truth too.” He shakes his head. “I’m not very good at this.”

Dan’s eyes look a little lighter now with Phil’s hand on top of his. “Talking?”

Phil nods.

“Well,” he pushes his fingers into the gaps. “This is a good place to start, yeah?”

Phil nods and says, “I like you too, Dan.”

*

They finish their coffees and walk back home together. Their knuckles brush between them as they go. It’s dark out now but still bright with all of the city lights around them. Phil’s never been outside so much in the dark until he met Dan.

He looks up at the surely fog filled skies and sees a twinkle of light just to the left of the moon.

He points. “Look. One star in the sky.”

Dan stops next to him and looks up to where Phil is pointing. “Hm, that’s probably a satellite.”

“Really? You’re gonna shit on my one star?”

Dan laughs. “What’s the difference?”

“It’s not a star! You can’t wish on a satellite, Dan.”  
Dan shoves his shoulder into Phil’s and Phil shoves back. “What were you gonna wish for then?”

Phil looks at Dan and it strikes him then that he doesn’t have to wish for Dan anymore. Not really, anyway. There’s still a lot for them to say and figure out and the lines they have to define. Dan doesn’t know what he is, and that’s fine. But when it comes to Dan, Phil doesn’t feel like he has a wish anymore. There’s no more precipice, no more waiting to see what’s at the bottom of this cliff.

Phil jumped and Dan met him at the bottom.

He could wish for anything else, but all this time the only thing he’d been wishing for is what he has now. What he thinks he has now, anyway.

He reaches for Dan’s hand and squeezes it quick before letting go again. “Nothing, I guess. It probably is a satellite anyway.”

They start walking towards home again, shoulder to shoulder.

“I can get you a birthday candle if you really need one,” Dan jokes.

Phil snorts, “That only works when it’s actually your birthday, Dan.”

“Says who? The birthday gods?”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Dan walks ahead of Phil, turning around and walking backwards like the show off he is. “Yeah, and you’re an idiot who likes this idiot.”

“You’re gonna walk into a lamppost!”

“Oh, come on. Who’s the clumsy one in this relationship?”

Phil’s heart catches. Dan’s still smiling, not even realizing what he’s said. Phil has no idea what he even means by that, but it’s something he can ask about later once they’ve both had a rest from emotionally draining conversations.

Phil starts, “This what--?” But before he can finish, Dan’s shoe catches on a crack in the pavement and he goes stumbling.

Phil bursts into laughter, running to catch Dan before he falls face first into the road. He holds him up, his arm around Dan’s waist as they both catch their breath.

“Okay, maybe it’s both of us,” Dan says, breathless.

He’s so close, Phil can feel Dan’s breath on his face. It’s just like last night before they both fell asleep. Close, but not too close. Not crossing a line they can never draw back.

Phil finds his wish. He wishes for Dan to cross the line.

Dan smiles, tight lipped and anxious. He pulls back to stand on his own two feet again. “Come on, let’s get home.”

Phil looks up at the sky to the blinking satellite and follows Dan home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure i've had a dizzy evening so apologies for any typos!
> 
> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	12. Chapter 12

He doesn’t want Dan to think he’s assuming anything. Dan just got out of a relationship, for one thing. For another, he’s never dated another man before - or at least he hasn’t told Phil that he has. And at this point, it seems like information Phil would know.

So he doesn’t follow Dan up to his flat. He says goodbye as the lift opens onto his floor and sends a smile Dan’s way. He hopes to high heaven he doesn’t look disappointed that Dan isn’t inviting him up.

He walks into his flat without looking back as the lift doors close.

Phil’s getting ahead of himself. Once again.

The smile is genuine. He isn’t lying, because him and Dan aren’t doing that anymore. They’re telling the truth. And if Phil’s telling the truth, he would’ve liked to be invited upstairs to Dan’s flat for a drink or some video games or a movie or whatever. He just - doesn’t want to stop being with Dan right now. A light has been turned on and everything is so much clearer now. But also, it isn’t really.

Dan never said what he wanted. Phil didn’t ask.

Phil is also fucking exhausted. His body physically aches for soft pyjamas and bed and all the lights turned off. He toes off his shoes and makes a beeline for his bedroom, shedding his clothes as quick as he can for the coziest pjs he owns. He’s flopped dramatically into the covers not even a minute after walking through the door. He snuggles down into the blankets and closes his eyes. Sleep is the only thing he really wants now.

Sleep is definitely not what he gets.

His brain is wide awake and running through every word and gesture he shared with Dan tonight. He goes over it again and again until it starts to feel a little more real. Until his mind stops sending disbelieving signals left and right.

It doesn’t make sense that Dan would choose him, at least not on paper. When he had Lacey, he had some kind of normalcy with her. But, Dan is choosing him. He’s choosing something harder, a thing Phil has never been known to do. But in this case, what’s harder is better, is true.

There’s nothing in their way anymore. Phil feels warm all over.

But something heavy sits in his gut.

He didn’t mean to be a homewrecker. Lacey was always nice to him in their very limited interactions. Very limited. But, she must be sad, right? Dan had to do that - break up with her - to get to where they are now.

Phil hates that. He feels guilty, like he’s messed up something that could’ve just stayed fine.

Phil didn’t have to cross that line. He didn’t have to go for a taken man. An albeit sexually confused, taken man. But he did. And so, it is kind of his fault.

Or maybe, it isn’t. Because if this was all written in the stars somewhere, and meant to be like Phil is completely convinced, then nothing Phil could have done would have prevented it all from coming together. They were - inevitable.

It’s easy enough to rationalize something that feels so right. There’s too many truths running around Phil’s head that make him feel like it’s the opposite of right. That he isn’t actually thinking with his head or his heart. Or that he is, but one of the two is lying to him. And that, everything is wrong and fucked up and no one’s telling the truth. Not Dan or his brain or the universe.

Late night thoughts always tend to lean this way. On the wrong side of truth.

They continue to crisscross until he feels wide awake again. He reaches for his phone for a distraction and sees a text he’s missed from Dan.

_are you freaking out a little_

He laughs out loud to any empty room. Typical. Dan never sleeps. His late night thoughts are probably spinning the same cycle as Phil’s.

He replies, _Maybe a little._

He taps over to Bryony’s contact and messages her a brief summary of the night’s events. Ending with: _So everything’s good i think. Still kinda waiting on him to make a fr MOVE. but i’m happy :))_

She texts back a succinct “!!!!!! :))” along with numerous rainbow heart emojis. He beams.

Dan hasn’t texted back, which is fine. Hopefully he’s asleep, like Phil should be. But he doubts it. Dan never seems to go to sleep until after 3am.

Phil messes around on Instagram for a while, letting videos autoplay until he’s done a deepdive into a weird celebrity culture and all the way around to an account of a corgi on a skateboard.

He switches over to a webcomic he’s been making his way through the past couple weeks pretending it’s work. It’s pretty much everything he’s ever wanted to write. The artist followed him back on Twitter yesterday, it was weirdly satisfying to see the notification light up on his phone. He sat in the girl’s dms without typing anything for about an hour, trying to think of something useful to say. He’d come up with exactly nothing.

He’s four pages into the fifth chapter. His eyes hurt and he’s starting to think about midnight snacks when Dan texts back.

_kinda me too is that bad???_

He clicks back over to his messages. He types a reply, hardly having to think about it:

_No, it makes sense_

Dan’s reply is almost immediate. Almost like he’d already had it typed out.

_please dont forget that i like you_

And then:

_because i do_

_Me too :)_

_what?_

_I LIKE you DUH_

_m8 i feel fucking fifteen_

_SAME_

_what is this_

_A crush?_

_yeah_

_can i ask u something_

Phil’s heart hammers against his chest.

_Of course_

Three little dots appear and disappear for a minute before:

_why didn’t you invite me over tonight_

Phil almost laughs out loud but his breath is gone before he can muster it. They really are acting like teenagers. His cheeks hurt. He’s been smiling the whole time, he hadn’t even noticed.

He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. They’re both awake and Phil really wants to shove some slippers on his feet and take the stairs two at a time up to the next floor, he really wants to knock on Dan’s door and then shove him against it after he answers. He just - wants. But he doesn’t. Because everything that’s come before makes Phil’s impulses feel just on this side of not-right.

Dan answers the call almost immediately. He’s chuckling into Phil’s ear before he even says hello.

“Dan?”

“You gonna answer my question?”

“Sorry, I can barely see the screen.” A mostly true excuse. He threw his glasses off to the side while getting undressed and the squinting hurts his head. Talking is better, is easier. He also just likes hearing Dan’s sleepy voice in his ear.

“Why didn’t you invite me over?” Dan asks again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was assuming anything,” Phil says truthfully.

“Assuming what?”

“That we were gonna - do stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Phil suppresses a laugh. “What, you gonna make me spell it out for you?’

“Uh. Yes. I would very much like to hear about the specifics of this stuff,” Dan says. It’s too many words for Phil’s brain right now.

“Ugh.”

“I’m waiting, Philly.”

“Your mum.”

Dan snorts, loud and unapologetic. It would be an unattractive sound, if Phil weren’t so gone for the guy.

“I just… didn’t want you to get scared. Or, for me to get scared,” he says, finding this whole talking openly and honestly about your feelings thing incredibly annoying.

“I’m not scared, Phil,” Dan says, soft and warm. Phil just wants to hug him.

He settles for the pillow next to him, squeezing it close to his chest. “Maybe I am.”

Dan’s quiet and then, “What are you scared of?”

“You.”

His guard is trying to figure out where to land, up or down. Maybe it just depends on the question and whether he has the answer. The level of overthinking he indulges looking like an arrhythmic heart monitor.

Dan is silent. It feels like a moment stretched too thin, but it’s more like neither one of them know what to say.

Then a breath. “I’m not- you don’t have to be.”

Phil chuckles out of fondness. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I guess.”

“It’s just me.”

Phil’s heart stutters. It is Dan. He can hardly fucking believe it. “Yeah. It’s you.” He pauses. He’s not sure how far this goes, this thing between them. He’s not sure how many doors he can open, how many things he can poke at until it’s too much. “Is Lacey sad?”

“What?”

“You broke up. People are sad when they break up.”

Dan’s quiet for a long time. Phil takes his phone away from his face to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. The call is still there, the timer blinking away at more minutes than Phil realized had passed.

“Yeah. She’s sad,” he says finally. “I’m sad too. I don’t want to be, because talking to you makes me happy. I don’t know… I guess I’m both at once. Is that- can I do that?”

“I think so. I… feel bad about it.”

“Why?”

“It’s sort of my fault.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not.” His voice doesn’t even waver. He’s just - so certain. More certain than Phil’s ever been about anything. Well, maybe anything other than the way he feels about Dan.

“But, it is, though? I’m the one making it difficult for you.”

Dan breathes a laugh. “You’re making things difficult. In a good way. I want it to be difficult like this, Phil. And, I mean, me and Lacey would’ve ended eventually. I’m a shitty boyfriend. She deserves so much better than me. I’m surprised she didn’t break up with me a long time ago.”

“That’s not your fault, Dan.”

“No it is, Phil. I should’ve known better. I should’ve tried - harder.”

Phil hates that. He hates that it’s sort of true. “Trying to be straight, it never ends up somewhere good.”

“Still. I could’ve been a better friend.”

There’s nothing Phil can say to that. He can’t believe that Dan is a real person. He’s too good.

“She’ll be okay, though. Right?”

“She’ll be amazing. She’s the best person I know. Well, aside from you.”

Phil’s arms feel numb. His whole body feels made of jelly. Dan can’t just say things like that.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Dan mocks.

“Shut up!”

“You’re really not smooth, mate.”

He squeezes the pillow harder. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Howell.”

“Oh yeah?” They’re flirting. They’re actually flirting. There’s no pretending here.

“You’re not ready for it.”

“I think I am, actually.” It’s so sincere Phil thinks his heart might burst with fondness. The giggles start before he can stop them. It’s been so long since he’s done this, he doesn’t know how to keep himself together. He doesn’t know how Dan does it, either.

“I’m free now,” Dan says.

“Does it feel good?”

“Fuck yeah. I mean, it’s terrifying as hell. But it’s like… I’m real now.”

“You said you weren’t scared.”

Dan snorts, “I am, though. I’m scared of - everything. Just not you.”

Oh. He doesn’t have to ask why. It just, makes sense.

“What do you mean?”

“‘Bout what?”

“That you’re real now.”

“I think, before, I just felt - invisible. I don’t know. People could see me, but I didn’t let anything touch me. And like, we’re only a day out here. But already, like, sitting in the cafe with you… it didn’t feel like I was hiding in plain sight anymore. Because I wasn’t. I’m not.”

Before, it was like this glass wall had been built between them. And now it’s been shattered by Dan’s bravery. At least to Phil that’s what it is. It’s all Dan, it’s Dan crossing the line like it didn’t even exist, it’s Dan speaking truth like it isn’t scary as fuck to believe, it’s Dan completely turning his life upside down to be with Phil.

To be with Phil. Not that he knows that, not that it’s about him at all.

*

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Phil asks, sleep drawing apart every word.

“Yeah, duh,” Dan replies. “Wait, shit. Fuck.”

There’s too much swearing. It jams together in Phil’s brain. “Huh?”

“I actually can’t, I forgot. I’ve got this thing.”

The disappointment twists into something bigger than it should be. “What thing?”

“Uh. I kind of have a gig. Like, a music gig.”

“Wait, really? Dan, that’s so cool.”

“It’s not, I’m just accompanying for some drama school’s musical auditions. But, it’s a job so.” He talks about it like Phil will think less of him or something. It’s ridiculous.

“That’s still cool, Dan.”

“I fucking hate playing musical theatre.”

“I think maybe in another life I have a career on the West End.”

“You sing?” He can hear the smile in Dan’s voice, on the edge of a tease.

Phil giggles, he’s lost all control over that impulse at this time of night. “Only in the shower. I said another life, mate.”

“I liked theatre as a kid. I did drama at school. Playing Benvolio in our Romeo And Juliet was a pretty big deal for little Dan. Except, it didn’t really help with, like, trying to be cool or liked or anything.” It sounds too bitter for a funny little anecdote. Phil can’t help but wonder what else he means, but it’s too late and Dan’s already shared far too many secrets with Phil for one night.

Phil hums, “Well, I like you.” It’s stupid and random, because that’s all his brain can do this late at night.

Dan hums a similar tune. “Yeah, me too.”

“Maybe in another life we’d meet at the theatre.”

“You think we know each other in that life?” Dan says, going deeper into the silly things Phil says like he always does. Like they matter.

“I think we know each other in every life, Dan.”

*

It goes like that for a while. Phil tries to keep his eyes open and his responses coherent as Dan goes through the list of his irrational fears. That’s how Phil falls asleep. Dan sounds close to it as well, but the later it gets the more it seems he has to say. Phil wants to listen to everything, to memorize all the little pieces of Dan.

The exhaustion takes over at some point. His phone is still in his hand, pressed to his cheek and squished in between the pillow.

Dan probably realizes once Phil’s little humming responses turn into snores. But in Phil’s dream, Dan’s lying next to him and continues whispering stories in Phil’s ears until morning.

*

Dan is gone all day. He texts Phil from the train early in the morning. Based on the time he starts, Phil estimates he only got about four hours of sleep. Dan says it’s better than nothing.

Phil tries to work, he really does. But Dan’s texting him every 10 minutes. It’s all random shit. Just a stream of consciousness that Phil finds incredibly adorable.

_there was a pigeon in the station_

_who let a fucking pigeon inside???_

_there’s a guy in front of me that looks like harry styles’ twin_

_he’s kinda hot_

_woah sorry i’ve never really said something liek that b4_

_you’re hot too_

_you’re hotter actually_

_is that ok to say?_

_idek_

_sorry i’m annoying and ur working_

Phil’s heart drops so low in his stomach he thinks it might fall out of his ass. He screenshots the messages about him being hot - for reasons.

This is much better than working, but he finds himself drifting all day. From Dan’s messages to Youtube videos about movie sins to the webcomic he’s become obsessed with. The artist’s open dms sit open in another tab, but he pretends it’s not there.

The comic exists on the same site he’d published Internet Zombies on, so it’s likely that she knows who Phil is. It’s likely that she wouldn’t think it’s weird for him to message her. She followed him back and everything. And yet.

He answers some emails to distract himself from that train of anxiety. Until a new wave of Dan texts flow in.

_fuck i hate being at schools_

_they have cool murals in the art hall so that’s ok i guess_

_some of these kids can actually sing_

Phil texts back:

_Aren’t you supposed to be working?_

_they’re just warming up it’s like two keys_

_Don’t text and play_

_multitasking bby_

Phil huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. Dan over text is almost as good as Dan in person. Except for the obvious things.

Dan stops replying after a few minutes. Phil assumes the singing auditions have probably started. He checks his phone every few minutes despite it being completely silent, just to see if he’s missed Dan’s response. He shuts his phone inside the drawer of his desk and tries to focus.

No real work gets done for a while. He makes a snack and checks the messages on his laptop, a loophole to the whole phone-in-desk trick. He finally ends up emailing a link to the comic he’s been reading to PJ. They send each other comics from time to time. As well as Internet Zombies fanart PJ finds on Tumblr. It’s all really good and weirdly inspiring.

Phil doesn’t think they could pull off anything like it again. Especially since they live so far from each other now, PJ being in Brighton and busy with his numerous film projects that Phil tries not to be jealous of.

He’s been reminiscing lately, though. Making that comic with PJ had been one of the most fun things he’s ever created. He misses creating like that. Not just to have a purpose, but because it was fun. That’s how he’d found this girl’s LGBT focused sci-fi comic. Lurking on his account, reading new comments from people who’d just discovered IZ. Her comic popped up on the front page of his dash.

He sends the link to his agent, too, just to make it seem like it is part of working on his new draft.

The subject line is: _Vibes?_

He opens up the storyboarding app on his laptop just to mess around with a few concepts he has in his ideas folder. Not completely abandoning his current project, but trying to expand it. Maybe that comic really did work some wonders on his desperate need for inspiration.

Dan’s text pops up on his laptop right as he feels a buzz come from inside his desk.

_can i call you on my way back_

_it’ll be around 5_

He sends Dan a thumbs up and opens a new document.

*

Dan calls right when Phil’s microwave beeps. Popcorn for dinner probably isn’t the healthiest, but Phil is only human.

“Daniel.”

“Philip.”

“Are you on the train?”

“Walking to the station.” Phil hears street noise in the background. Dan says “excuse me” to someone as he passes by.

“Will you come by once you’re back?”

Dan chuckles, “Why? So we can do, stuff?”

There’s a burst of excited nerves in his gut. He shakes his head. “Or just, you know. Watch a movie.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He’s got one hand under the bowl of popcorn and one hand holding his phone as he walks the dangerous path to the sofa. Not that he hasn’t resorted to eating spilled popcorn from off the floor before. He isn’t afraid of stooping that low.

He plops down, resting the bowl on his stomach. It’s a good thing Dan can’t see him through the phone. “How did it go today?”

“Alright. I think I majorly fucked up the tempo on one kid’s song, but he handled it pretty well.”

“He didn’t yell at you?”

“Eh, he was just a kid. They aren’t as scary as I remember, actually.”

Phil starts, “What do you--”

Dan cuts him off, “I have an agenda, Phil.”

Phil smirks. “An agenda?” He’s an idiot.

“Mhm, I called you for a specific reason and I have to get it out before I lose my nerve.”

Phil doesn’t think Dan’s ever lost his nerve. If anything he has too much nerve. He doesn’t tell Dan that, though.

“Okay, go ahead. Agenda it up.”

Dan chuckles, probably shaking his head at Phil’s awkwardness. “Alright, whatever that means. But, basically, I want to go on a date with you.”

Phil has to close his eyes for a moment, he’s savoring it.

“Is that, can we do that?” Dan asks. He sounds nervous, like he was being serious about losing his nerve. Like he doesn’t already know Phil’s answer.

Phil tries not to giggle and give himself away. He’s just so bloody happy. “Definitely. We can do that.”

“I just- I missed you today and I thought that was really weird since I’d just seen you yesterday. And I know we didn’t actually say anything after we talked. Like, about what we’re going to do. And honestly, I think if it were up to you we’d just keep pining like weird teenagers because, well, you said it yourself,” Dan rambles on. He’s always doing that, over explaining his reasons for everything when he’s even a tiny percent unsure.

He doesn’t need to, but it’s cute as hell so Phil doesn’t mind.

“Okay, Dan. Sounds good.”

Dan lets out a breath. Phil can tell he’s relieved or something. He can’t believe he was even nervous. “Yeah?”

Phil lets a little giggle slip through. “Yeah! Now get on the train so I can see your stupid face. I might even save you some popcorn.”

Dan giggles too. “Stupid face? Says you. Mr. Alien Head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr :)


	13. Chapter 13

Phil can count on one hand how many proper dates he’s been on. Even less than that how many he’s planned. But he told Dan he would, because so far Dan’s been doing most of the heavy lifting in their relationship. Phil’s decided it’s his turn. 

People talk about falling in love, they talk about finding the one and “just knowing” and love at first sight. Phil’s seen all the movies but he’s never known what any of that means. He meets pretty boys and imagines lives with them until he’s convinced himself that maybe it’ll come true. It’s just, these boys always look better in his head than they do up close. Phil builds them up into something not-real. He creates all these movie-ending expectations that only ever serve to disappoint him in real life. 

He’s definitely never been in love. He’s definitely never known what it’s like to “just know.” It’s been so long that he wonders if he’s even capable of it - of love. The hard stuff, the real stuff, the “I’d die for you” stuff. 

There’s a secret place in the back of his brain where he’s started not to believe in it. The bitter place where he watches all his friends fall head over heels without looking where they might land. Where they leave Phil all by himself, wondering why it’s never his turn. 

He’s accepted that he’s not the type of guy people normally pick out from a crowd. Maybe that’s why it’s never been him. Or the fact that he’s been so hidden, so guarded, so afraid for so long. He’s never been a risk taker, he’s never stopped a hot guy on the street just because he can. It’s definitely his own fault. 

Dan changes all of that. 

The crowd didn’t part for them like water. It was a poorly placed computer charger and Phil’s lack of coordination that’s sent them stumbling into where they are today. One domino falling into another, and if one hadn’t been put in the exact right place it all could’ve been different. 

Phil calls it fate, the way it’s all fallen together like that. It’s just not that simple. 

They’re not star-crossed - not even close. Everything that’s stood between them, they’ve found a way through. Phil doesn’t understand how it happened, how Dan’s domino ended up knocking into his, he just knows he’s glad it did.

*

“You don’t think this is all too soon?” 

Dan’s sitting on Phil’s sofa playing with the strings of his hoodie. Phil sits across from him, farther away than probably necessary. Their knees touch. It’s like they’re nervous, like being together is almost too much now that there’s nothing keeping them from what they both want. 

Phil’s not sure where everything stands. He makes sure not to sit too close. 

“What d’you mean? You mean because of Lacey?” Dan asks, all eyebrows. 

Phil nods. The movie’s over but Dan insisted they watch through to the credits. He must’ve scooted closer at some point and Phil’s not sure how he didn’t notice before. His knee touching Phil’s feels like a shock of electricity. 

Dan shakes his head. He chews on the plastic end of the hoodie string. Phil probably shouldn’t stare at his mouth like that. He’s not sure that’s something he’s allowed. Hopefully Dan doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything. 

Phil looks away, back to the tv. He tries to find his name in the list, just like always. “I don’t want to push you.” 

“I like you, Phil.” 

“So I’ve heard.” He looks back at Dan, just out of the corner of his eye. 

Dan smirks. “So, what’s the issue?” Phil keeps looking at him, and every time he does he’s struck once again by how unreal Dan is to him. A wish come true, sitting in front of him in the flesh. What’s he supposed to do with that? 

Phil takes a deep breath. This is just another one of his anxieties, taking root in a place it doesn’t belong. It shouldn’t be this hard, but sometimes Phil’s head is just out to get him like this. It’s not an easy thing to admit, either. That he’s still scared - of so many things he’s not even sure where to start. Dan’s smile falls. 

He doesn’t know how to say this. “I don’t want to be just, like an awakening for you. Or a… what do you call it. Reshot? Re-re--?” 

“Rebound.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“You’re not,” Dan says, scooting closer. 

Phil looks at him, eyes open and hoping and saying all the things Phil doesn’t know how. Dan stares back, seeing through him like he just knows how. He doesn’t even have to try. He just gets Phil. Phil isn’t allowed to hide here, he wouldn’t be able to even if he wanted to. 

This is all so much easier for Dan. Phil doesn’t know how to be fearless like that. 

“Phil. What do I have to do to make you believe me?” His hand is on Phil’s arm. That weight, like a lifeline for him. 

Phil shakes his head, “Don’t you think it should be easier than this?” His brain can’t help but show him all the ways this could go wrong. Nothing’s clicked into place yet. There’s no smooth transition into whatever it is they’re meant to be now. It’s not fair. Phil feels like he’s still kidding himself. 

It only goes so far, believing in something you still can’t quite see. 

Dan’s eyes haven’t left his. “You like me, right?” 

“Of course. So much.” 

“And I like you.” 

“Yeah.” He can’t help the giddy little smile at hearing that, again. He has the feeling Dan might say it as many times as he needs to, or until Phil starts to believe it. 

“Isn’t that easy?” 

Phil nods and then the words spill out. “You’re just so sure and I think that scares me because no one’s ever been sure about me before. I’ve never been anyone’s first choice, you know. And I’m sure about you, I am. I just.. see that it hasn’t been easy for you. And I don’t want to scare you off.” 

“I told you I’m not scared.” 

Maybe it’s that kneejerk self sabotage, but Phil’s not sure how much to trust that Dan won’t eventually get scared. But Dan wouldn’t lie, so he nods. “Okay.” 

Dan squeezes his arm. “I’m choosing you, yeah? You’re my first choice and fuck all those guys who didn’t see that you should be. Seriously, where do they live? Because I’ll go over there and rip them--” 

“Dan, Dan, Dan! It’s okay.” 

“It fucking isn’t.” Dan’s still frowning. Phil wants to smooth out those lines around his mouth. 

He puts his hand over Dan’s on his arm. “It is, now. ‘Cos you’re here.” 

He smiles now, that goofy, dimpled thing that Phil sees in his dreams. Dan leans back, opening up his arms and legs. “Come here.” Phil does, without thinking too hard about it. He takes up the space in Dan’s arms easily and feels Dan wrap around him. He runs a hand through Phil’s hair and hums a song, tapping his fingers up Phil’s arm. 

Just him and Dan. That’s safe and simple and enough. 

*

He knocks on Dan’s door after just a second of anxiously rubbing his clammy hands on his thighs. Phil’s picking him up for their date like he knows you’re supposed to do. Chivalry isn’t dead and all that. He seriously fought the urge to get him flowers, too. But that definitely would’ve been too much. 

Dan looks good. He’s wearing a white collared shirt that’s just a little bit see through. It’s tucked into black jeans that are just tight enough that Phil can’t help but stare. That’s okay, he’s allowed to stare. Dan is his - something. Dan’s left ear glitters with something - an earring, Phil guesses. 

“Hi.” Dan seems nervous and a bit more jittery than he was the other night. Good, nervous energy. Phil feels the same, like he can’t quite settle into the excitement and adrenaline of the whole thing. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see now, won’t you?” 

Dan quirks a brow, smirking a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Phil leads the way, not looking back to see if Dan follows. He’s decided not to be scared tonight, to not hang onto every anxious thought his stupid brain comes up with. After all, this is just him and Dan and that’s not new. They hang out all the time, this isn’t any different. Even if they are going to a fancy restaurant and getting expensive dessert, instead of takeaway pizza down the road. They’ve leveled up, that’s all. Romantic-hangouts unlocked! 

He giggles at his own joke. 

“What?” Dan asks. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing.. I’m just an idiot.” 

Dan snorts. “Yeah.” And his eyes go all soft with it. 

They stand shoulder to shoulder in the lift. They’re a bit awkward, now. Phil shoves his hands in his pockets and watches the number tick down. It makes him a little uneasy every extra second that passes. Getting stuck in lifts is one of his irrational fears, not that it’s entirely irrational. 

He doesn’t expect it, but then Dan pulls him close and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist. He buries his face in the crook of Phil’s neck. It comes out of nowhere, Phil doesn’t even move for half a second. Everything seems to go at half speed. Then he reaches his arms up around Dan’s neck after a moment of uncertainty. Dan mumbles something into his shirt that Phil can’t quite hear. 

“What?” he asks, once they’ve parted. 

Dan smiles, small and a little private. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. It makes Phil nervous that Dan looks a little sad when he says it. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to push for more of an answer than that so he doesn’t. 

The doors open on the ground floor and Dan walks out, looking back. “You coming?” 

Phil blinks himself back into regular time and follows Dan out into the street. 

*

Phil is maybe trying too hard. The restaurant isn’t that fancy, but it’s the kind that has a whole menu for drinks. He lets Dan pick the wine because he’s not sure how to even read the selection out loud and insists they get the whole bottle. Dan frowns and Phil knows he’s about to bring up something about the price. He just shakes his head. This is his turn, he says. Dan can pay for dessert. 

He can’t lie - it’s kind of weird. They talk about almost nothing before the food comes. Every thought Phil’s ever had sticks to the back of his throat. His tongue doesn’t work and he’s suddenly really aware of the way he holds a fork in his awkward, alien fingers. Dan’s uncharacteristically quiet. He nods along to whatever Phil manages to say. He speaks in half sentences to Phil, full ones to the waiter. Phil really isn’t hungry anymore. 

Phil talks a lot of nonsense. Dan looks like he’s pretending to care. Or maybe that’s just Phil’s brain. He keeps chuckling at Phil’s jokes, and then frowning like it makes him sad. Phil really doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. 

Dan won’t look him in the eye. 

Phil’s looking at his distorted face in the reflection of his spoon when Dan finally speaks up. 

“Do you ever feel like you don’t have a personality?” 

Phil almost doesn’t realize that Dan’s talking to him and not the waiter. “What?” 

Dan squints his eyes. “Oops. Never mind.” 

“What? No, what do you mean? Of course you have a personality.” It’s the most interesting thing either one of them has said all night. Phil isn’t about to let it go. 

“I mean, what if it’s just this mask I put on when I’m around you and anyone else I turn myself on for.” He pauses for a second. “Wait, no, that sounded wrong.” 

Phil wheezes a laugh, trying not to make it too loud and obnoxious. 

“You know what I mean!” Dan says, louder than he probably should. 

Phil has half a mind to shush him, but he really just wants Dan to keep talking. “Sorry, do you really feel like you don’t have a personality?” 

Dan shrugs, spinning his fork round and round in his pasta. 

“Maybe you’re secretly a robot.” 

Dan snorts. “So, if you’re an alien…” 

“And you’re a robot.” 

“An alien teaching a robot to love. That’s the story you should be writing.” Dan draws the title in the air for Phil, back on with the dramatics. 

He nods, looking at Dan through his mostly empty wine glass. “Yeah, honestly.” 

*

It’s not a perfect first date, but Phil takes them to the London Eye anyway. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, but Phil’s far past caring. As far as tricks go, it’s the only one he’s got up his sleeve for the night. 

Phil keeps his hands in his pockets as they walk and Dan just looks at his feet. Phil can’t stop looking at him. 

His heart still stutters and stops every time he realizes that it’s Dan with him. Like, sometimes he forgets. Sometimes it isn’t Dan in his head, it’s just this weird blob of a person that doesn’t have a face yet. When Dan is there, standing right in front of him, that’s when he can finally see it. 

He bumps his shoulder into Dan’s. Dan finally looks over at him, smiling a real smile. Phil’s heart jumps so violently it makes him cough. Dan bumps back and he looks around at the lights. 

Phil did it on purpose, timed it just right so the sun would just be past setting by the time they made their way to the wheel. It’s warm and a little wet and if Phil gave into his impulses he’d jump into a puddle on the side of the pavement like a child. 

It’s still too quiet. At least Dan’s looking at him now.

“Where are we going?” 

Phil can see the wheel ahead of them. Dan probably knows, he’s seen it now too. 

Phil pushes down every logical thought he’s ever had, takes Dan’s hand, and skips ahead. He feels Dan jolt in his hand, like he wasn’t expecting Phil to grab him so abruptly. Dan hesitates as Phil tries to pull him ahead. He looks back and sees something like fear in Dan’s eyes. Dan said he’s afraid of everything, but he never mentioned heights. 

Dan’s eyes flick away from Phil’s, from the left to the right. They settle back on Phil’s then and soften. 

A second passes and the fear goes with it. He sets his gaze, resolute, on Phil. Dan goes with him, not quite holding his hand back and letting it hang limp in Phil’s grip. 

*

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Phil asks as they climb in. 

Dan bites his lip. “Not really, no.” 

Phil grins. “I’ll hold your hand if you get scared.” Dan shoves him and he falls backwards into his seat. 

The crowds of tourists have thinned at this hour so they manage to get a little pod to themselves. Dan tries to rock it back and forth to make Phil jump and grab onto his arm. It’s better now that they’re in here by themselves. Phil’s not sure where the shift happened or if it’s just all been in his head. 

Dan just seems - hesitant. He goes in slow motion compared to Phil, taking twice as long to make a decision and react to the jokes Phil makes. 

They stop at the very top. Dan looks over the city spread out around them, breathing it all in. He seems calmer than he has all night. Phil takes a bit of bravery and scoots closer. 

“I’ve never done this before, you know,” Dan says, quiet. Phil’s not sure what he means, the Eye or something else. He keeps looking out. 

Phil’s dreamt of this little romantic moment for longer than he cares to admit. But in his dreams, Dan’s always looking back at him. 

They only stay still for a minute before they’re moving on their way back down. Dan looks back at him after the minute’s passed. Phil just smiles, close-mouthed and unsure. Dan smiles back. It seems genuine and real and like this is enough for him. Like, he’s happy to be with Phil. 

He takes Phil’s hand and squeezes it, before letting go just as quick. 

It’s right in front of him - real. And Phil still doesn’t let himself believe it. 

*

It happens on the train. 

They’re sitting close and squished together in the seats. Phil’s leg presses up against Dan’s. He leans into it, decides to take a little bit of a risk. It’s not like him to make moves, especially physical ones in uncertain places. But Dan’s felt too far away this entire night and Phil can’t let them go home like that. 

It’s not enough for Phil, to let it feel awkward and disjointed and the opposite of easy. 

Dan’s hands rest in his lap. Phil slides his hand down to his leg as discreetly as possible, which isn’t very discreet at all. His awkward fingers twitch and flail, giving himself away. He reaches out for Dan’s palm. And then, Dan flinches.

It’s like before on the street, but bigger. It’s visible and full bodied and he moves away from Phil the second their hands touch. This inch or two of added distance between them feels like a big, gaping hole. Dan’s eyebrows go up, his eyes wide and terrified. He looks around the car, eyes flicking to every dark corner of the train. No one is looking at them. There’s a woman in the corner with her head against the window and her eyes closed. Two men sit in the back with their phones in their hands. Dan’s eyes go to Phil’s a second too late. Scared, but sorry. 

“Phil--” he says, right as the train arrives at their stop. 

Phil doesn’t even know what happened. He’s embarrassed and confused and he just wants to get off this train. He goes as soon as the doors open, not even waiting to see if Dan’s behind him. 

*

Phil’s been let down so many times that it’s something he comes to expect from people, even the best people, even his mum. He’s scared to let anything else in - especially the things that make him believe that something more exists between him and Dan, something that he can’t trust not to hurt him. 

There’s been too much pretending. He can’t pretend anymore that this is easy. It’s not, it’s hard and he doesn’t know how to do it. 

He can count on one hand how many times he’s thought he’s gotten it right. He can count on just as many the times he’s been wrong. 

Here’s all the luck he’s bet on one guy, slipping through his fingers. Turning black and dissolving, like it wasn’t really luck worth anything to begin with. 

He’s sure he’s never been in love, but he’s never hoped this hard before for something to be right. He has half a mind to blame the world for giving him Dan in the first place. It’s not meant to be, it was just a fluke, a glitch in the simulation. A satellite instead of a star. Those wishes don’t come true. 

*

Dan catches him as he’s stepping out of the station, taking the stairs two at a time. He catches Phil’s arm, then lets it go when Phil doesn’t stop. He just keeps walking. 

“Phil!” Dan calls after him. 

He slows down, Dan’s legs are longer anyway. 

Dan walks a few steps behind him. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Phil chokes. “I don’t have to touch you if you don’t want me to, that’s fine. That’s your decision, Dan.” 

“No, no, no. Stop. That’s not what I--” 

Phil stops and turns. Facing Dan is almost too much, he’s too real for Phil to ignore. “What, Dan? I don’t get it, like I’m trying not to want too much here and you’re the one saying--” 

Dan shivers. It’s not even cold. “Can we…” he cuts him off before Phil can say more. “Can we talk about this at yours?” He’s looking around again. As hard as he tries, Phil can’t see whatever it is that Dan does. 

They walk the rest of the way in silence. Dan doesn’t even walk beside Phil. 

They’re quiet in the lift too. Phil half expects Dan to press the button for his own floor, but he doesn’t. He waits with his hands in his pockets until the doors ding open and he follows Phil into his flat. 

It’s nothing like the way down had been. 

Dan takes off his shoes, so Phil guesses he’s staying a while. Or however long it takes to let Phil down. 

There’s just no making sense of the 180 he’s done. Unless Phil’s done something wrong or he’s misinterpreted what Dan meant when he said he liked Phil. This is what he’d been scared of and he’s a little angry that Dan let it happen when he’d been so reassuring before. Phil trusted that, even if he didn’t want to. 

Dan sits on the floor. Phil does too, a good distance away. 

Dan looks at him now, just like he had the other night. Things slot back into place in the soft, quiet light of Phil’s home. Except for the way his heart beats, caught onto the fear of what’s coming. That’s never been so loud before. 

Dan shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” Phil asks, since nothing Dan’s doing makes sense to him anymore. 

“Make yourself far away.” 

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” 

Phil huffs a breath. “Dan, you flinched when I tried to touch you. I don’t really want to be close to you right now.” 

It hits Dan like an insult and Phil can see it in the way he frowns. He didn’t mean it that way. “I messed up,” Dan says. 

“No, I just- I don’t want to hurt you. And you’re not telling me.. anything that’s in your head. I just don’t know how to even…” 

Dan fidgets with whatever he can find. “You’re not telling me what’s in your head either, Phil. Not really.” 

Phil splutters. “Yes, yes- yes, I am. I tell you that I’m afraid and that I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. But then you, you say you want to go on a date. So, I take you on a date and you hate it.” 

“I didn’t hate it.” 

“You didn’t like it.” 

Dan just stares back at him. He can’t deny it, Phil guesses. They’re not supposed to lie to each other anymore. 

“It’s more complicated than that.” 

“You need to tell me if you don’t want me to hold your hand. I kept touching you like that was okay and obviously it’s not- and you don’t have to tell me why, but I need to know where the lines are.” 

Dan keeps frowning. “I want you to hold my hand. I want you to touch me.” 

Phil looks away. It’s easier that way. “You didn’t see your face on the train. It’s like I’d- fucking murdered your cat or something. Dan… if you don’t like me, you can just tell me.” His voice shakes. Phil’s losing all sense of balance. 

Dan lets out a bunch of air. “Fuck, Phil. I do. I like you so much, I don’t even know what to do with it.” 

“I don’t want you to do this just because you feel like you have to. You can tell me the truth, it won’t destroy me or anything. Promise.” 

“Phil. What the hell are you even talking about.” Dan taps Phil’s chin so he’ll look up. 

He shrugs. “I told you I’m scared. This is me, being scared.” 

Dan takes a few breaths, he traces his finger up to Phil’s mouth before pulling it back. He chews on his thoughts for a while. Phil doesn’t hold his breath. Finally, he says, “I panicked.” A truth. 

“Okay,” Phil says, softer. 

“I’ve never done this before.” 

“I know.” 

“There’s more.” 

Phil nods, letting go of the offense. 

Dan takes a long time to form the words in his mouth. It’s an entirely different language he’s never been taught how to speak, Phil knows. They can take their time with it. Phil isn’t going anywhere. 

“I’ve done… some of this before. Like, in the dark in dorm rooms. And fucking music camps. It’s always been in the dark, it’s always been where no one else can see.” 

Phil’s been there too. He’s been in secret places with a boy for the first time. It used to be a little exciting, tempting even, the fact that they might get caught. Been then there’s the real fear of what might actually happen if they are. 

“I like it here with you, where no one can see us. But I don’t want to be - fucking ashamed of it. I wanted to go out and be okay with being out with you and - I just wasn’t, I guess. I don’t know, Phil.” He rubs his hands all over his face, pushing his hair off his forehead. He tugs like he does, too hard and looking like it hurts. 

Phil goes forward, pushing their knees together and taking Dan’s hands in his so he’ll stop. He smooths the skin over Dan’s warm hands. His mum used to do that when he’d fidget or if he couldn’t fall asleep. 

Dan’s head falls onto Phil’s shoulder. They stay like that for a long time, Phil doesn’t keep track. He just smooths the skin, over and over again until Dan’s breathing sounds even again and Phil’s heart isn’t beating so loudly. 

Phil breaks the silence, because he’s been thinking it for weeks now. “There’s a lot more, isn’t there?” 

Dan nods, pressing his forehead into Phil’s shoulder even more. 

“Will you… will you tell me about it?” 

Dan lifts his head and looks at Phil. His eyes shine and Phil doesn’t want to see him cry. He’ll probably just cry too. Dan nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	14. Chapter 14

Phil holds him, because that feels right in this moment. They move to sit, huddled together, in Phil’s bed while Dan talks. Phil wraps him up in blankets and all of the warm things he can find. Dan’s wearing Phil’s old green York hoodie. His chest feels all tight and full at the same time. 

Listening to Dan talk about all of the horrible things people have done to him is hard. It hits Phil like a storm. Slow and steady, rolling over like thunder again and again. Which isn’t that scary, honestly. Phil is used to storms. He knows how to see them coming and he knows that they’ll pass and that the rain is just rain even when it sounds like something harder, like something dangerous. It’s a terrible thing, to be used to hearing about this kind of pain, but it doesn’t surprise him as much as it should. 

“So, I just pretended I was straight for a long time. I think I needed friends more than anything. And they were shitty friends, but at least I wasn’t fucking alone anymore. I guess. I don’t know, full time runescape might’ve been better in hindsight.” 

His knees are tucked over Phil’s outstretched legs. His head tilts back against the wall and he looks up at the ceiling while he talks. Beats of eye contact pass as he makes sure Phil is still listening, still awake. Phil couldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. Not with Dan in his arms and his bed making his heart beat faster. Not with Dan’s voice in his ears, soft and a little scared and stepping lightly on every word. 

There’s a word for the croak in Dan’s voice. Phil’s head floats around trying to snag it from those lost uni years. Dan’s voice always makes him want to rant about linguistics and the way words form in his mouth. Something about that posh accent and his round A’s. 

“Hiding was better than… trying to be normal. I went to a couple summer music camps and every guy there seemed to be a little bent and hiding it. That’s how I, like, really figured it out. Back at school - the guys just, they didn’t even need a reason. Me existing and emanating some kind of fucking homo-aura was all it took.” His breath catches. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say things like that.” 

Phil shakes his head. “It’s your story. You can tell it however you like.” 

“I just… I get angry sometimes. I am angry, most of the time. I don’t want you to think I’m angry with you.” 

“Why are you?” He thinks he knows the answer, but it’ll help hearing Dan say it out loud. 

Dan huffs a breath, he draws his knees closer trying to close himself off. Phil holds him tighter, he doesn’t let him hide here. He doesn't have to. 

His voice comes out like a whisper. “Because it’s not fucking fair. There’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t look at you and think you’re broken. But there’s something in me telling me that I am. Because I can’t change it, right? I’ve tried, fuck, have I tried. Obviously, it’s made no fucking difference. I mean, you’ve seen me try.” 

Phil wants to squeeze him so tight that they stick together. He wants to push all his good thoughts and feelings for Dan into his skin via some kind of human osmosis. Maybe then Dan would understand and he wouldn’t feel so twisted up inside. Phil just wants to smooth that crease between his eyebrows and make him laugh again. There’s nothing to fix because Dan isn't broken, but Phil still wants to see all this pain go away. 

He’s not sure it’s his job to do the smoothing, but he’ll try anyway. 

“You’re right. You’re not broken.” 

“Thanks.” It's blunt and hard, Phil's not sure what it means. 

Phil stumbles. “Sorry, I just- I’m not, I’m not good at talking about - stuff.”

“Hard stuff?” 

“Most stuff. Feeling stuff.”

“Only alien words?” Dan cracks a small smile. His eyes are closed so Phil can’t tell if it’s real. 

He shakes his head, “No, I don’t want to say the wrong thing. Because you are right. It isn’t fair and you’re not broken even if your brain tells you you are. And, you can’t change it. But you get to decide what you do with it, you know. So, if it’s too much - if all of this is too much, we don’t have to.” 

Dan takes a breath, his eyes still closed. He opens his mouth to speak, except he doesn’t. He opens his eyes quick and throws himself on top of Phil. And then that mouth is on Phil’s too. 

It’s not that Phil has never been kissed. It’s that Phil has never been kissed quite like this. Like the only breath he’s got comes from Dan’s mouth. 

People talk about love at first sight and Phil takes those stories for what they are - stories. And he looks at people he passes on the pavement and he wonders what would happen if their eyes met. Most people look down these days and Phil is too awkward to chat up a random fit guy on the street. But when he thinks about what it would be like to fall in love in an instant, it feels like this. 

He’s on the edge of something, that moment just before you start to cry. It’s a relief. It’s finally getting to pee after you’ve been sat in a cinema for three hours. That’s probably gross to think about when there’s kissing going on, but it’s just what he means. 

It’s this overflowing and sweet relief and bolts of lighting flashing in his stomach. He won’t compare it to fireworks, but maybe it’s exactly that. A bursting. A filling up. 

There’s nothing in his head. There’s Dan’s mouth on his, wet and warm and soft. There’s Dan’s hands clutching at his tshirt and his chest crushing against Phil’s. Phil tugs back, pulling at his own hoodie, trying again to be impossibly closer. He just wants that warmth, that safety, that knowledge that this is the only right thing. 

He can’t believe he got it right. 

Dan pulls away to catch his breath. He leans back and stares down at his hands for a moment. Phil holds his breath. Dan won’t leave. He won’t run and hide now. Phil feels it in his bones. He’s got that sureness now he’s never known before. This has been no revelation. The building up to something breaking already happened. This is just pieces slipping into the places they were always meant to be. 

He can’t see the flush in Dan’s cheeks in the low light. 

Phil’s voice is hoarse now. “Was that too much?” 

Dan giggles, a toothy smile spreads through his whole face. He surges forward, mashing his mouth against Phil’s again. It hurts a little trying to kiss like this, but then Dan puts his teeth away and they smile into each other’s mouths. He wraps his arms around Phil’s neck. 

“No, you dork. That’s why I did it.” 

“Oh.” Phil’s brain has turned to mush. There’s very little words when Dan is this close. 

“Oh.” Dan mocks. 

Phil presses kisses to his cheeks and his forehead and all around his mouth, shutting Dan up. Once he's done, he says, “Are you avoiding?” 

Dan shakes his head, pressing his face into Phil’s neck and kissing there. “We talk too much.” 

“I’m still not sure I understand. Because of--” his breath hitches. Dan’s hot hands have found their way under Phil’s shirt and he’s finding it hard to focus. “What happened on the - whatdoyoucallit. The train. With the - your hands.” He’s just babbling at this point. 

Dan’s hands roam all around Phil’s stomach while his mouth makes its way along Phil’s jaw. He seems to know what he’s doing, he also seems to be pretty good at it. It makes Phil want to ask, but that would probably be too much. Dan doesn’t have to tell him all his secrets. Phil just wants to know them all. 

Dan thumbs over Phil’s nipple and he’s really not sure how much more of this he can take before he lets it go too far. It’d be too easy to let himself have this, to let it keep going. Everything’s a little bit easier and a little bit less scary here in the dark. But Phil doesn’t want that. 

It takes everything in him to say, “Dan, stop.” 

Dan does. He sits up without hesitation and puts his hands in his lap. It’s one of those moments when he looks his age, when Phil remembers that he’s the older one. 

“Is it- am I…” Dan mumbles. 

Phil reaches out for one of Dan’s hands. Rubbing circles into his palm with his thumb. “You’re fine. I just… I need to know that things are okay.” 

Dan nods. “Things are okay.” 

“No, the things we’re doing. The things I’m doing, mostly. I can’t… I don’t want to mess this up.” 

“I know. And I’m telling you that it’s okay.” 

He shakes his head again. “You can’t just say that. All that stuff isn’t going to go away. And I don’t want something to happen again like it did on the train. I’d hate myself.” 

Dan scoots forward. Phil can see his face a little better now. “I don’t want that either.” 

“I don’t want this to just be something we do in the dark,” Phil says, before he loses his nerve. 

Dan’s quiet for a moment before, “Me neither.” 

Phil lets out the breath that's been stuck in his chest. Dan leans over to the lamp beside Phil’s bed and flicks it on, filling the room with a little more light. He can see the pink in Dan’s cheeks now, and that little spot on the right side of his chin. He pushes his hair off his forehead, messing with the curls. Phil takes that hand too, letting himself look. 

He kisses Dan’s knuckles. “Is this okay?” 

Dan swallows and nods. 

He kisses the inside of Dan’s palm, all the way up to his wrist. “Okay?” 

Dan watches Phil closely, and nods. He pushes his free hand into Phil’s hair, fumbling with the strands as Phil continues. 

He asks with each new step, “Is this okay?” Dan giggles and grins and closes his eyes and nods. They slide their fingers together and squeeze. Phil’s feet tangle up in the sheets trying to find Dan’s toes on the other side. Everything goes from quick and urgent and fueled with restless want to slow and gentle and sure and steady. 

Dan keeps saying “yes” as Phil takes them further. Phil keeps believing him, trusting that he won’t run away. 

*

“Can I tell you a secret?” Phil says. 

They’re spread out in his bed, the duvet kicked to the floor and the sheets tying them together. It’s dark now and they’re meant to be sleeping. Phil can feel Dan’s little breaths on his bare chest. He should be tired. His body feels tired but his brain won’t stop. He keeps thinking of things he wants to say. He can’t quite wrap his head around the idea of this dream, this wish, coming true. 

And if it is just a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up and it all be different. But in order to wake up, he’d have to fall asleep first. Maybe he’ll never sleep again. He can watch Dan sleep and feel rested just from that, but as much as he'd like to be, he’s still not Edward Cullen. 

Dan hums, pressing his mouth to Phil’s collarbone. 

Phil isn’t sure he’s fully awake, but he doesn’t mind. These are just things he needs to say out loud. 

“When I first saw you, or I guess, met you, I thought you were my soulmate. Not love-at-first-sight, obviously. I just, I felt something. Like, a tugging. We talked about it feeling like we’d known each other in a past life. And, I don’t know if you were joking, but I really meant it. Because I think you are, actually. I think you’re my soulmate.” 

It would be easier if Dan were asleep. For a couple of minutes, he thinks he probably is. A silence settles over them once Phil’s finished. His heart beats hard from working up the courage to admit it. It’s a lot of pressure to put on a person, but Phil doesn’t need anything from Dan that he hasn’t already willingly given. 

There’s something about what they’re doing now that’s different than before. In the obvious ways, and the less obvious ways. This is easier to break, to lose, to fuck up. There’s more to lose and more to gain. Phil’s never done it like this, either. He’s never been so in. It’s scary how much he likes Dan. It’s scary how easily Dan could break him. 

He’s laid it all out, whether Dan's coherent enough to hear him. All he can do is wait until morning. 

But Dan does speak up eventually and he sounds a lot more awake than Phil had thought. “You know soulmates is bullshit, right?” 

Phil coughs a laugh and sits up a little to look down at Dan. He’s blurry. “What?” 

Dan giggles. “Sorry, it’s just. Souls aren’t even a real thing.” 

“You really don’t think fate had something to do with all of this?” 

“Fate’s bullshit too,” he mumbles. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Are you angry?” 

Phil laughs, his tongue poking out like it does. “What? Course not.” He puts his hand on Dan’s cheek and holds him there so that he won’t look away. “You’re just… always you.” 

“What does that mean?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno, mate. But I kind of love it.” 

Dan’s breath hitches so hard that Phil can see it. He hadn’t meant to say that, but maybe he had. 

“Sorry! Too much, too fast. I’ll try to control my stupid mouth,” Phil says. 

Dan turns to kiss Phil’s palm. “Don’t you dare. I like that mouth a lot.” 

Phil giggles. He feels like a real life love story. The ones he didn’t think existed anymore. But there’s Dan, all gorgeous and spread out in his bed, looking like everything Phil’s ever wanted. 

“I wonder if it always feels like this.” 

Dan smiles. So wide and so bright it lights up the whole room. “Guess if it’s soulmates, it makes sense.” 

Phil raises his eyebrows. “Thought you didn’t believe in it?” 

He shrugs and rolls away from Phil. Phil follows and slots himself into the space behind Dan, wrapping his arm around Dan’s waist. “What does it even mean?” Dan asks. 

Phil presses kisses to the back of Dan’s neck, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and citrus. He smells like a boy, mostly. Phil loves it so much. It’s one of those wonderful moments when he’s so glad to know what he likes and what he wants. It’s one of those rare and amazing moments when he actually gets to have that. He’s still pinching himself at the reality of Dan. 

He hums. “That we’re meant to be. In every world and alternate universe.” 

“What if we’d never met?” 

“That’s what fate’s for. And luck, I suppose.” 

“D’you think there’s people that never meet their soulmate? People without the fate and luck shit?” 

Phil pulls Dan closer. “I mean, it wasn’t like we met and everything was easy. You were… with someone else--” 

“And pretending to be straight,” Dan finishes. 

“Sure. And everything still turned out for us. Maybe it’s because I wished on the right star or we both had enough luck for everything to go the way it did, but even without all of that, I think we’d end up here eventually.” 

“Or, maybe it’s ‘cos we just get on really well.” 

Phil snorts. “There’s plenty of people I get on with that I don’t fall in love with.” He barely knows what he’s saying until he’s said it. “Not that I- you know, it’s new and--” 

Dan turns around to face him, planting an off-center kiss on the corner of his mouth and snuggling into Phil’s chest. “I know. Me too.” 

Phil traces shapes in Dan’s back. He spells out little words and wonders if Dan notices. He doesn’t say anything. 

His words are getting looser with sleep. “I think it’s just random,” Dan says. 

“There’s nothing special about that.” 

“Nope, just regular old compatibility and hormones.” He stretches his toes out to touch Phil’s ankle. He squirms away and Dan reaches to catch him. “Did you really wish on a star for me, though?” 

Phil giggles. It sounds a lot more childish when Dan says it. “Maybe. I wished for you a lot.” 

“I’m sorry I was such a dick.” 

“You weren’t.” 

“But, I kind of was.” 

“It’s alright. I still like you and all that.” 

*

The morning is filled with just as much grossness. Kisses and words whispered in each other’s ears. Dan makes breakfast just like he did the other morning he woke up in Phil’s flat. Phil has milk this time and he still has cheap coffee, but Dan drinks it. They eat on the couch, sitting closer than necessary really. Dan’s elbow knocks into Phil's as they eat their cereal. Phil tries to scoot away, but Dan just closes the gap as soon as he notices. 

He puts something on the tv, but neither of them pay attention. Dan tells him jokes that aren’t really funny, but he makes him laugh anyway. He’s good at the delivery and gets all the beats right. It’s the beginning of a good day. One without worry and stress and pulling away. This is the togetherness Phil’s always imagined for himself. 

Him and Dan. Dan and him. Nothing in between them anymore. 

“Is there anything else you don’t believe in?” Phil asks. He’s on his third cup of coffee and he’s still in his pjs. It might just be a pj day for both of them. Dan’s still in Phil’s clothes. Phil really hopes Dan forgets he has his own clothes in his flat upstairs. Dan in his hoodie is easily one of his new favorite things. That and the kissing. 

“Hm. Like what?” 

“God?” 

“No clue. Probably not? Ugh, that makes me think too hard about, like, existence. It’s too early for that.” 

Phil snorts. “Okay. Ghosts?” 

Dan shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“Really? I’ll keep my closet door open tonight and see if we have any visitors.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Ghosts travel through open closet doors, duh.” 

Dan shakes his head and bites a smile off his bottom lip. “You’re an idiot.” 

Phil suppresses more giggles and continues. “What about luck?” 

“I mean, everything’s just a coincidence, isn’t it? Magic isn’t real and fate is just something that makes us feel less out of control. The concept of luck was probably invented by some capitalist agenda that wanted to make money off four leaf clovers and rabbit feet. Or whatever.” He rants in that way he does, with his hands waving about and his gaze fixed ahead on some indeterminable distance. Phil can’t help but moon over this boy and all his too big words and societal musings. Phil thinks for a just a moment if this should be a considered deal breaker - the disbelieving. It just makes him laugh. 

“So I take it that’s a no for leprechauns too?” 

Dan makes a face like Phil isn’t being serious. He is, actually, completely serious. Dan shoves at Phil, sending him backwards and almost spilling his coffee all over them and the sofa. He catches his own arm in midair, and it feels like a miracle. He’s the clumsiest person in the world with the reflexes of a cross-eyed sloth and somehow he's managed to save this one random cup of coffee, but maybe being with Dan has given him superpowers. He feels steadier than he ever has before. 

He's not sure how he feels about that. Without spilled coffee, he wouldn't have Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	15. Chapter 15

They ease into things, and then run full force ahead. Days are spent together, working in separate rooms or across the couch. Days are filled, mostly, with music and kisses in private and making each other laugh with the most ridiculous jokes. And Phil is happy, probably happier than he’s ever been. Dan says Phil gives him too much credit, but Phil doesn’t believe in all his false modesty. 

There are so many good days. Phil tries to take pictures for his mental scrapbook and save the little things Dan says in notes in his phone to look at later. He worries about it all going by too fast, until he remembers that there’s no time limit on them. This will be forever - he’s not sure he could handle something so good being finite. He’s always been selfish like that. 

There are good days, until there aren’t. 

He wakes up alone one morning. It’s not super uncommon, but Dan usually comes back to bed eventually. He’ll wake Phil up with kisses and a cup of coffee. Phil rolls over, closes his eyes, and melts back into sleep. The next time he wakes up, he’s still alone. It’s ridiculously late now. He tumbles out of bed in search of Dan, blearily waving his hands around for his glasses. He’s in just his pants, but his brain isn’t coherent enough to think about pulling on some discarded sweatpants. 

Dan is in the lounge, less naked and looking as sleepy as Phil feels. He’s sat on the floor in front of one of the giant windows. He’s just looking. He hasn’t even noticed Phil standing in the doorway. 

Phil stares for a few minutes, because he’s allowed and Dan looks pretty in the gray light. There’s no sun shining through the window and the cloudy sky paints Dan’s face a pale white. He’s frowning, the little lines next to his mouth stretched down. The dark circles under his eyes just look a bit more there than on most days. He looks like a ghost. Too real for Phil’s active imagination. Maybe he’s been a ghost all along. 

He still doesn’t notice Phil, or if he does he doesn’t show it. Phil makes a weird noise, something in between a cough and a squeak. His throat’s a bit sore, he notices for the first time since waking up. 

“Hey,” he croaks. 

Dan tilts his head in acknowledgement, eyes still fixed on something Phil can’t see from where he’s standing. 

“You never came back to bed,” Phil tries. 

Dan shakes his head. 

Phil crosses next to him and kneels down. Dan’s got goosebumps all down his legs. Phil shivers a little bit with all his skin exposed. The house usually isn’t this cold in the morning when the sun faces their window. “I missed you.” 

He reaches his hand out, and then takes it back. Phil’s not convinced Dan would want that right now. Not with his face so empty and drawn down. He’s not convinced he wouldn’t flinch away from Phil’s touch. He couldn’t handle it if he did. He shoves his hands under his own thighs, sitting down on top of them. 

Dan doesn’t say anything at that. Phil sees him open his lips to breathe out some air. Like he has to remember to breathe, like he’s forgotten that his body’s supposed to do that for him. Phil notices his own breathing and that weird itch, the one that reminds him he’s not an immortal being with magical powers, tugs at the back of his throat. 

It’s too weird and uncomfortable. Phil gets up, he backs up to make sure he doesn’t touch Dan on his way to the kitchen, walking around the other side of the sofa. He makes them both coffee. 

Dan doesn’t feel like talking, and that’s fine. Sometimes Dan has weird, bad days and Phil’s trying to learn what he needs on them. Sometimes Dan holds onto him like a lifeline, sometimes he goes on long walks without telling Phil when he’ll be back. Some nights he sleeps in his own flat. He always comes back. He’s always there in the morning with a muffin or a fancy drink from Starbucks. It’s not an apology, Phil doesn’t need him to apologize, it’s just something. Phil thinks about it like making up for lost time. 

Dan doesn’t really talk about the bad days. Why they come or what’s in his head when they do. Phil tries not to ask, but it’s getting harder and harder the more they come. He just, he wants to help. He wants to smooth out Dan’s wrinkles and give him the world and whatever else he needs. It’s gotten to that disgusting point of dependence, Phil just feels sad when Dan is sad. He feels happy when Dan is happy. There’s no getting around that. They’re tied together now. 

He sets Dan’s mug on the floor next to his knee and goes back to the kitchen to pour himself some cereal. He leaves Dan alone, letting him process whatever it is his brain is running circles around. That’s what it feels like for Phil, at least. Dan’s brain is probably different. Probably exists somewhere artistic and edgy and dark. It’s dumb that Phil wishes he could crawl inside, just to see what it’s like in there. 

He turns around to check on Dan where he sits over by the window, but he’s gone. The mug still sits on the floor, untouched. Phil hadn’t even heard him leave. He can be sneaky like that. Phil doesn’t feel that worried. He only worries when Dan leaves. 

Phil finds him in the bedroom, buried under the covers. His whole head is hidden, a tuft of curly brown hair poking out from underneath Phil’s pillow. 

He wants to reach out, wants to curl around Dan until he doesn’t feel so helpless. It’s just, it’s not even about Phil. It’s not about the fact that Dan having a bad day makes Phil have a bad day. Phil can get on with it. He can drink his coffee and do some work in the lounge and wait for the clouds to pass. It isn’t Dan’s fault that Phil hates the feeling, hates knowing that Dan is just in the other room and still feels unreachable. And Phil isn’t mad at him for it. 

It makes his stomach twist, the fact that he can’t even touch him - that he won’t let himself. That’s all he wants. 

*

It’s not easy, but he busies himself with other things. Mostly, he busies himself with taking care of Dan. He reheats the coffee in the microwave and sets it on the bedside table just in case he wants it. He brings in a couple of extra blankets from the lounge and lays them all around Dan until he looks like a tucked in burrito. He lights Dan’s favorite candle. He closes all the blinds and turns the heating up. 

He stands by himself in the lounge trying to think of anything he’s missed. He feels alone and weird and useless. There’s this out of place motherly instinct that’s been triggered by Dan looking sad and cold. And his hands only stop shaking once he’s put them to use trying to make him feel better. He’s always been a little bit more like his mum, with the worrying and the superstitions. His mum would do it for him on sick days and when he had bad days at school. It’s been like this before, though. He’s never been so anxious to help in whatever physical way possible. But, also, he’s never had a Dan before. 

He does some work and leaves Dan to rest. He can barely sit still. He gets barely a page out. He reads some emails without taking the time to answer them, just flags the most important ones. He keeps glancing towards the bedroom door, glancing at his phone on the cushion next to him for just another distraction. He’s anything but focused. His third cup of coffee sits half empty on the coffee table and he’s already thinking about a fourth. His fingers shake on his keyboard. 

It’s one of those days he already knows isn’t going to be productive before it’s even halfway done. His head doesn’t feel attached to his body. 

He thinks about texting Bryony, but the only thing he’d want to talk about is Dan. And he doesn’t think he’s allowed to talk about days like these with people Dan barely knows. 

So he makes Dan a sandwich even though he knows he probably won’t eat it. He’s got to occupy his hands and this is the only way he can think to do it. 

When he goes back in the bedroom, Dan is laid out on the bed with all of the blankets thrown off of him. He’s opened the blinds again. The candle still burns on Phil’s desk. 

His eyes are open though. They’re looking at Phil. The brown is so dark in this light, it almost looks black. He looks even more like a ghost than before. 

Phil starts to back up, the plate in his hand feeling even more ridiculous than before. He feels caught. “I can come back later.” 

Dan doesn’t even blink. “You’re fine.” His voice sounds normal, alive, the same as before. It’s so soft, Phil thinks he might’ve imagined it. But then Dan’s sitting up and rubbing at the skin on his face. He’s alive again. Phil lets out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” 

Dan laughs. It’s short and harsh. Phil thinks about laughing too, but. 

He cringes. “Sorry, stupid question.” 

Dan shakes his head. That little burst of energy gone now. His face settles back into its permanent frown. 

Phil sets the plate aside on his desk and sits on the edge of the bed. If Dan’s up, Phil wants to talk. Even if it’s about nothing. He wants to try. 

They’re quiet for a long time. He’s used to that by now, Dan needs silence to process and get his words strung together in just the right way. Phil talks without thinking, most of the time. He can be patient for Dan. 

He feels like he’s vibrating though, just sitting still next to him. “Can we talk about it?” 

Dan shakes his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“”But you’re-” He doesn’t let himself finish. “Can I do anything?” 

Dan lets out a bunch of air. He doesn’t look at Phil when he says, “You’ve done enough.” 

It sends Phil spinning, just those three words. Suddenly, it’s all his fault. It’s everything he’s ever done that’s been wrong or off putting or slightly Too Much. He’s too aware of it, that everything he does edges on Too Much. And that he’s awkward and clumsy and messy and not a very good kisser. 

And he shouldn’t have let himself do this because - it was like this with Lacey, too. Maybe Phil just doesn’t know Dan as well as he thought he did. 

Fuck - no. That’s not it at all. The evil Dan that exists in Phil’s brain only to break his heart isn’t real. Even on the bad days. 

He swallows all of that, pushes it to the very bottom, and says, “Did I do something wrong?” 

Dan pulls at the skin on his face, bunching it up in all the wrong places. “Fuck, no. You just…”

“Tell me what to do to fix it and I will.” 

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Dan huffs. He’s frustrated or something. Phil’s still waiting to hear what he did. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t get it.” 

Dan stumbles over his words. “You didn’t- it doesn’t work that way. You try--” 

“Just out with it, Dan.” He sits on his hands again. All he wants to do is reach out. There’s a crease between Dan’s eyebrows. He thinks maybe everything would be okay if he could just reach over and smooth the skin over with his thumb. Or maybe Dan would pull away even more. 

The space between them on the bed feels like a big, gaping black hole. Phil’s afraid it might swallow him whole. 

“I don’t need you to make me better. You can’t fix me.” 

It’s so obvious and simple, but it makes Phil’s brain do a double take. He hadn’t been trying to fix Dan, he doesn’t think Dan needs fixing. He just wanted… to make things better. He doesn’t know if that’s the same thing. 

“I don’t want to fix you,” Phil says. “You’re perfect.” 

“But that’s the thing! I’m so not! I’m fucked up and I’m gonna stay that way. And I guess… you just have to be okay with that.” 

Phil shakes his head. “I know you’re not perfect. I just meant - you’re perfect for me.” 

Dan makes a sound between a cough and a scoff. Phil tries not to repeat it in his brain over and over again. “I can’t always be what you want me to be.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

“But I’m disappointing you. I can see it every time you look at me.” 

“What? What are you talking about?” They’ve ended up somewhere Phil doesn’t know how to navigate. Dan could be speaking Spanish for all Phil knows. 

“You come in here with your blankets and your fucking coffee that I’m not gonna drink and you’re like… this again, great! But-but some days I’m just a mess, okay? Just leave me alone to be messed up and empty and sad.” 

Phil didn’t even expect Dan to notice all those things. The blankets or the coffee or the look on his face. He just thought he’d been dead to the world, whether he was awake or not. But he doesn’t even really care. What he cares about is, “Is that what you want? To be alone?” He could mention that this is Phil’s flat and this is Phil’s bed they’re sat in and Dan doesn’t have to be here. But, he doesn’t. Because all Phil needs is for Dan to stay. 

Dan shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m used to doing this part alone.” 

Phil thinks about Lacey and he thinks about how long it’s been since Dan’s really talked to anyone about this. He hates every part of it. He hates that there’s nothing he can do or say to make a difference. 

He knows what this is. He’s done enough googling and reading up on it to know that Dan has to do most of it alone, even if Phil’s stood right next to him while he does it. 

“You don’t have to do it alone. You aren’t alone, because I’m here now.” 

Dan sighs. “Yes, I’ve heard it all before.” 

“I like you, Dan. I’m not just gonna not do anything.” There’s more to that. To the first half, specifically. It’s not something he can say, though. Not now. 

“I’m asking you not to.”

“Are you--” 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Dan cuts him off. He slinks back under the covers and turns to face away from Phil. 

*

He goes on a walk. There’s too much weird energy in his body to stay sat in the lounge pretending he isn’t going crazy with Dan in the other room. 

Also, he’s mad. Not at Dan, really. Just the whole thing. The fact that he doesn’t really get it, but he does in the basic ways. HIs brain keeps reminding him how young Dan is, and that only makes it worse. 

He shoves his headphones in his ears and pretends not to think. He counts every crack in the pavement until he loses track and has to start over. He goes aimlessly, not being able to keep track of the direction he’s walking even if he tried. He gets himself lost more than once, partly on purpose. It buys more time. 

He comes across a fountain on his way back towards the apartment. He’s passed it more than once by now, no doubt going in some kind of large circle around the flat. He won’t let himself get too far from home, from where Dan is. He’s not sure why. Too far apart and it feels like everything might just rip in half. Better not even try. 

He sits on the edge of the concrete, leaning back far enough for it to feel a little dangerous. He shouldn’t even joke, he’s more likely to go splat into the fountain than most clumsy people. It’s one of his special skills, being exceptionally out of touch with his own flailing limbs. 

The clouds went away at some point during the early afternoon. It’s warm still, but starting to cool off with a bit of autumn approaching. It’s Dan’s favorite time of year. Today would’ve been a good day for them to come outside and walk to the shops or eat outside in the corner cafe near their building. Today could’ve been a good day. In the grand scheme of the universe and how their future seems to be laid out in front of them, it should’ve been a good day. 

Something just had to come along and ruin it. No one can have that much good luck. 

That’s just how life goes. It comes with the ebbs and flows. Nothing you can do about it. Phil still feels robbed of a beautiful day to be in--

There’s coins piled all along the floor of the fountain. He’s just noticed them, but it’s no different than any other fountain. Phil wonders how much money sits at the bottom and if anyone ever comes to collect it. It’s any easy way to steal people’s wishes. 

HIs mother never talked about wishing in fountains as much as she did ghosts and breaking mirrors and new shoes on tables. The superstitions in his childhood always leaned towards bad and scary and “don’t do this if you want to live forever.” Phil wants to live forever. He’d like all his cards to be laid out well enough for that to work out. 

Dan says that’s a coping mechanism for his fear of death. Phil did not say he was wrong. 

Phil wishes for good things all the time. He hopes like it’ll make a difference. That’s how he got Dan. Wishing and hoping. Another one on the pile wouldn’t do any harm. 

He stands up and digs a coin out of his wallet. There’s no one around, but he feels a little awkward standing there with his coin at the wishing well all by himself. He’s not sure what the normal age is for wishing in fountains and if maybe he’s outgrown it. But he also couldn’t care less about normal. 

There’s only one thing he wants to wish for. He makes a silent request with his eyes closed, repeating it over a few times before he feels his weight leaning to one side like he’s been stood up for too long. 

Opening his eyes, he flips the coin into the fountain. It knocks off the side of the statue in the middle and plonks into the water. He watches it sink down to join the rest and waits for some sign from the universe that he’s been heard. 

A leaf falls from the tree above him, settling into the water right above his coin. That’s good enough for Phil. 

*

He walks home with a movie soundtrack in his ears and it makes him feel like he’s in a movie. He isn’t mad anymore. He’s just a little sorry that Dan didn’t come wandering with him. It’s been a lonely day for both of them. Phil’s just ready to be home now. 

He takes in everything as he walks. Taking little snapshots with his mind and filing things away for later when this walk will feel like a lifetime ago. Like one day when he tells the story of how this all unfolded, like the color of the parked cars and the number of squirrels will be relevant. 

*

By the time he gets home, his feet are sore and he’s got goosebumps all over from the wind. All he wants is to crawl into bed and let his brain shut off for the rest of the evening. 

Dan’s nowhere in the lounge and Phil thinks that maybe he’s actually gone home to his own flat, but he finds him curled up in bed just like before. It looks like he hasn’t moved at all. 

Phil feels that pull again, magnetic and inevitable. And this time he decides he doesn’t care about what he’s supposed to do. He just does what he wants. 

He shucks off his jeans and tshirt, leaving his pants and his socks. He pulls up the edge of the duvet and slips into whatever empty space Dan has left. He’s still facing away, he hasn’t even made a move to acknowledge that Phil’s in the room. 

Phil turns so they’re back to back, not wanting to freak Dan out if he turns around to find Phil staring back at him. Not that Phil would be staring. He mostly wants to sleep and Dan’s already distracting enough. 

His phone gets shoved somewhere underneath his pillow with the sound turned off. He closes his eyes as soon as he’s settled and it’s one of those moments when he’s never felt more comfortable in his life. Bed is so good, pillow is so good, and cold feet under the warm sheets is so good. It’s literally all he needs to feel satisfied now. 

He relaxes his jaw, because he remembers that he always sleeps worse when it’s tense. He tries to roll his shoulders back, but there’s not much room for him to do it without brushing against Dan’s back. 

Until he hears shifting behind him and the sound of Dan’s breaths turning short. He thinks maybe Dan’s getting up, to get away from Phil or pull the duvet more to his side. But it’s neither of those things. Phil feels Dan fit his knees into the space behind his own and wrap his arms around Phil’s middle. He tucks himself in behind Phil and squeezes tight. There’s Dan’s breath on the back of Phil’s neck now, breathed out on him on purpose until his mouth touches the skin there. 

He was wrong before, this is literally all he needs to feel satisfied. 

It fills something in Phil didn’t know was missing. There’s a clicking into place here that fits so perfectly there’s no pretending they’re anything less than meant to be. They hold each other up now. Dan can be his person to lean on, and Phil doesn’t have to wonder where the gap is. It’s not Phil’s burden alone, it’s not Dan’s either - it’s just what you do when you--

Phil fits his fingers into Dan’s around his waist and pulls him tighter. “I’m sorry about before,” he croaks. 

Dan just hums. “Shut up and cuddle me.” 

Phil smiles and breathes out a little laugh. Even bad days can be good days underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to get back into the rhythm of things with classes starting up, but we are nearing the end of this little story :)
> 
> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back! thanks to everyone for bearing with me during my little break. trying not to give myself any super enforced deadlines as i'm surrounded by those in uni. hoping for a new update every other week from here on in until we finish!

“Sometimes it takes a bad day for me to have anything that looks like a good one,” Dan says into the dark before they fall asleep that night. 

“I think I get that,” Phil says, squeakier than he expected to sound. 

“I really like you. And I’m really scared.” 

“What are you scared of?” 

Dan’s finally talking after a whole day of nothing. Phil can’t help but feel relieved. He wants to know Dan so much, even the scary, dark places that Dan keeps hidden so well. Phil won’t push, but he’s going to be around to listen when Dan finally feels like talking. He’s made that kind of promise to himself. To be there, to listen, to try and say the right things. 

“Losing it. Losing you. And… being wrong, I guess. Being told I can’t have it.” 

Phil pulls him closer, breathes in the scent of him and fixes this moment to his memory as one of the good ones. He’s either dreaming, or entered an entirely new timeline where good things actually happen to him. Good, unbelievable, brilliant things. He doesn’t say any of that out loud. Won’t risk scaring Dan off even more than he maybe already has. 

“You can tell me, you know. The stuff in your head.” 

“Are you gonna tell me yours?” Dan jabs back, poking at Phil’s belly button.

Phil giggles. It bursts out of him unwarranted and he’s almost embarrassed by the sound of it. He swallows. “Probably not.” 

Dan nods against his chest. After a moment he says, “You… like me, right?” 

He doesn’t get how Dan can ask it like that, after all the push and pull. But, also, he definitely gets it. Dan’s had Phil pinching himself more than once. “Yeah, you dummy. I like you a lot. And, by the way, in case it wasn’t obvious, this isn’t like…. Casual for me.” 

Phil can feel Dan’s hair tickle his neck as Dan shakes his head. “Me neither.” It’s a weight off, a thing that’s been jumping around Phil’s brain for days now. 

His heart skips in such a way that it almost makes him cough. “Does that mean we’re boyfriends? I’ve never had one of those.” 

“Can you have a boyfriend if you’re not even, uh - gay?” 

“Are you not?” 

Dan lets out a bunch of air like he’s a popped balloon. Phil can feel him deflate on his chest. “I don’t know. I think I don’t want to be anything right now. Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s fine. Just as long as you stay with me. For now. You know.” The word ‘forever’ feels too much, too fast, too real. It lingers on the tip of Phil’s tongue. The way Dan looks up at him with the edges around his eyes soft and trusting, he wonders if maybe Dan just knows. Maybe he doesn’t need to say it at all. 

Dan nods, presses a kiss to Phil’s collarbone. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

*

Mornings when they wake up next to each other are Phil’s favorite mornings. Dan’s music is Phil’s favorite music. Watching tv with Dan is just better than watching alone. Food tastes better when Dan’s sitting at the other end of the breakfast bar. And Phil feels like he’s floating again. 

There’s no solid ground here. Just Dan and the fluttering beats of his abnormal heart. He gets lost in it so easily. Because it’s never been him before and most parts of it still feel like a dream. 

It’s all happened so fast, Phil’s barely had time to catch his breath. There’s barely an hour or more where they can stand to be apart. Dan’s brought over a bag of his things to Phil’s place, a toothbrush and deodorant and some clean pants. He didn’t ask, but Phil definitely doesn’t mind. The only time Dan ever goes back to his own place is when he needs to rehearse. He never lets Phil come with him, but Phil never gets around to asking. Moments alone are nice, good for both of their introverted souls, but Phil spends most of the time texting Dan, thinking about texting Dan, thinking about Dan… in any capacity. 

He wakes up with the feeling of skin all over and a little bit of sweat. Dan’s pressed to his side, connecting them at all major points. They’re both mostly naked. It’s so much skin. Dan is always so warm. Too much. Phil flings his right leg out from under the duvet to get away from some of the heat. He doesn’t have enough stamina to pull away completely. 

Dan might be awake. Phil hasn’t gotten around to opening his eyes yet. All his other senses have switched on, taking in the still sleepy feel of the morning and disconnecting from the memory of his dream. He’s mostly thinking about the monkey that was in his kitchen trying to make a smoothie in his broken blender. The small coherent part of him shoots out that it’s not real, that it was just a dream world monkey. The still asleep part of him is trying to remember if the monkey spoke or if they communicated telepathically. He’s sure there were some words exchanged somehow. 

There’s shifting weight and then a hand on his stomach, Dan pulling Phil further into him. Phil wonders if they might just melt into each other one day. Become a terrifying hybrid human. What was not intended by “Two become One.” 

Then there’s breath being blown in his ear and his eyes fly open along with his mouth. He lets out a loud yawn right in Dan’s face. There are some impulses he’s never learned how to control. 

Dan smirks at him, on the edge of laughter. Phil loves when Dan laughs at him, even when he’s poking fun. He loves that it’s his fault. 

“You look like a puppy,” Dan says. 

Phil rolls over to pin Dan down, pushing all his weight into him. 

Dan grunts, ‘A fucking heavy puppy. Get off, you oaf.” 

Phil shakes his head. “This is comfy.” 

“Maybe for you.” 

“Do you think monkeys can talk? Could they, like, learn?” 

Dan’s face scrunches up. “What the fuck?” 

“I had a dream.” 

From here the window casts stripes of light across Dan’s face through the blinds. Phil pokes his finger at Dan’s cheek and traces them. He follows the line down to Dan’s mouth. He feels squirmy inside, thinking about the perfect shape of it. Dan opens his mouth a little and bites at the fleshy bit of Phil’s thumb. 

Phil feels hot all over again. His legs are pressed to either side of Dan’s hips and he thinks about closing the gap where he’s left a bit of space so he’s not completely crushing Dan. He feels frozen, though. His finger still in Dan’s mouth and his eyes still blurry without his glasses. In the end, he doesn’t have to make a move. Dan does. 

He shoves Phil’s hand away and lifts his head up to catch Phil’s mouth in his. 

Phil’s never had to think about morning breath or the way he kisses before. Those parts didn’t matter when the person he was with was basically a means to an end. A bit of fun for the weekend. Now, it’s all he can think about. Being good for Dan. Being just as good as Dan. Because once they’re through the moments of fear and hesitation, Dan is so, so good for him. 

Phil reaches to his own bare leg and pinches himself again. 

Dan pulls away briefly to laugh into Phil’s mouth and take Phil’s hand in his. He rolls them around again, straddling Phil’s hips and leaning in again so quickly Phil has to stop again for a breath. The whole thing is warm and soft and breathless. It’s all Dan. It’s everything Phil’s been dreaming of. 

Dan takes his time and works his way down Phil’s body. Phil lets him have this control, lets him wander where he pleases, lets him trace the edges of Phil with his mouth. 

It’s the opposite of a means to an end. 

*

Phil never knew music would be this important to him. Dan keeps offering to play his tiny keyboard with his headphones in his bedroom. Phil really doesn’t mind. 

It’s not a song. It’s the same three or four chords over and over again. Phil can’t tell if they’re played in the same order every time or not, but he can hear the shape of a song being made. 

“What’s it for?” 

Dan was packing his little bag to go back to his own flat for the afternoon when Phil asked. 

Dan shrugged, “I’m scoring for this uni film.” 

“That sounds like a big deal. Is it a big deal?” 

Dan shrugged again. “Not really. Pays kinda shit.” 

“Can I come with you?” 

“Where?” 

“To your flat.” 

Dan had been quiet all day. Not in a bad way, but in a way that's made Phil just want more of him. He’s seen the wheels turning in Dan’s head and something always gets stuck on the way to his mouth, so he hasn’t spoken much at all except for these few word answers in reply to Phil. 

Dan shrugged for a third time. “Won’t it bother you?” 

“‘Course not. I’ll bring my laptop.” 

Phil sits at Dan’s tiny dining table and taps at his keyboard like anything he writes might be worth saving. All he can focus on his Dan’s playing. He keeps looking over at him, like he’s just noticed how good he looks while he’s hunched over the keys with his eyebrows all scrunched up. It’s a weird fascination Phil didn’t know he had and why he’s been desperate to ask to come over. He just likes watching Dan work. 

He goes back to staring at a blank document, taps some more, and wills his head not to turn in Dan’s direction. Give it five minutes, reward yourself with a look. 

It works for a while, but at the 4 minute mark Dan looks up. 

“Can I ask a question you may have no idea how to answer?” 

Phil shuts his laptop immediately. “Sure.” 

Dan chuckles. Maybe a bit too eager. “How does this sound?” He places his hands back on the keys and plays a melody that Phil hasn’t heard the whole time he’s been sitting there staring. The sound is familiar, just like those few chords he’s been plunking out separately. Dan’s made them into a song just like that. Without even trying. 

When he’s done, he lifts his foot up from one of the peddles with a thud and looks back over at Phil. 

Phil clicks three times in lieu of applause. “Sounds brilliant.” 

“Okay, but how does it really sound?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“The film - it’s set in the 90s with this girl finding out she’s a lesbian. The scene for this is her, like, figuring out she’s in love with her best friend. She’s walking home. I don’t know if it’s too much.” 

“What would be too much?” 

“Is it cheesy? It's so major and the chord progression just really... I don't know.” 

“No, it’s - it’s.. play it again?” 

Dan plays the song again and it’s just as brilliant as before, but now Phil pictures the scene in his head. Just a girl in love. He can feel it. 

“Does it work? How does it sound?” Dan asks. 

Phil thinks for a moment, and then, “Sounds like something good, but maybe you’re afraid of it. Sounds like a love song, honestly.” 

Dan grins, cheeky and proud. “Thanks,” and he turns back to scribble something on the sheet in front of him. 

*

Dan sneaks up behind him just as he’s gotten into the groove of a rewrite. Phil jumps as Dan’s arms wrap around his chest and a kiss gets pressed into the top of his head. Alien skull, is all he can think of. 

“You actually getting stuff done?” 

Phil bites the soft part of Dan’s arm. “Yep. I’m a good adult person with a real adult job.” 

Dan hums. “Mhm, sure.” Phil’s well aware of the privilege they both have to do this together, to do what they both love and be at home most of the day. It’s just added pressure sometimes, to be good at something like art and all the judgement that comes with it. From strangers, family members, his own agent. He wants to be good for them. He wants to be good for Dan. And deep down, he thinks he might not be good at all. 

It makes him sweat. 

Dan squeezes. “Can I read it?” 

“What?” Phil’s heart sinks into his stomach. There’s so few things he wouldn’t give Dan, but this is too scary. This is basically giving Dan a form of his diary. This is giving Dan all the power to tell Phil he’s terrible. His writing definitely doesn’t match up to Dan’s cool, dark aesthetic. He’s not as much of a perfectionist, either, so there's bound to be errors he won't catch until it's given to his editor. It’s not that what Phil makes is earth-shattering or will make any kind of difference in the world at all but - if Dan hates it, Phil might just trash the whole thing. Even though, he really does like this story.

“I don’t have to,” Dan says, backing off. 

Phil catches his hand before he can get too far. “No, yeah. When it’s finished? It’ll be better when it’s finished.” 

Dan squeezes his hand, reassuring. “I’m sure it’s great now, but okay. Whenever you're ready.” 

After all the hard days, it's nice to be met in the middle. 

* 

Phil’s puttering around in Dan’s kitchen, trying to scrounge up something edible to make them for dinner, when there’s a knock at the door. Phil opens his mouth to call for Dan before remembering he’s just stepped into the shower. For some reason, answering Dan’s door for him already makes him anxious. A million different scenarios pop into his head in which he has to pretend he’s Dan, fake his signature, call himself the new live-in cook, or pretend not to speak English. As long as he doesn’t slip and call himself Dan’s boyfriend. Which they're not. He could just say they’re mates - it's not a lie. It’s not untrue. More than anything, actually, they are friends. 

When he opens the door, it’s almost a relief to see Lacey standing there, a person he knows. A relief, and also the worst possible person to be on the other side. He doesn't even realize for half a second and then his hand holding the door open goes numb.

Her face falls as soon as she sees him. “Phil.” It's the saddest way any human person has ever said his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	17. Chapter 17

She doesn’t look like the sort of scary monster that Phil had created in his brain over the past few weeks. She looks the same as before. Dan’s Lacey. Now, just Lacey. And she looks sad. 

“Lacey,” he says. 

“Sorry, I didn’t- I can come back.” 

He shakes his head too harshly. He can feel his brain wobble around inside. “No, no. It’s fine. We’re not- come in.” 

She looks down the hall like she’s afraid of being seen here, standing on Dan’s doorstep. Phil can’t make his brain make sense of it. “No. I just wanted- here.” She hands him the box she’s holding, the one he hadn’t even noticed until now. 

It’s a shoebox without a lid, one of the thick ones that a pair of boots or some heavier kind of shoe comes in. It’s full of stuff. Dan’s stuff. At the top is a messily folded black tshirt, a flashdrive poking through around the edge, and a stack of polaroids held together by a rubberband. 

Phil didn’t know that this was a thing people actually did. Boxes of each other’s stuff packed up to give back when a relationship ends. Lacey holds the box out to him like she’s afraid to look inside. She keeps it at arms length, begging Phil to take it. 

Phil hates it. 

He takes the box from her carefully, imagining his clumsy alien fingers exacerbating the terrible awkwardness of this whole thing by dropping the box and spilling its contents everywhere. 

Lacey steps back as quickly as possible once the box is in Phil’s unsafe hands. “Just give it to him when you see him.” She avoids it like Dan's name is a secret or a bad word. Phil almost says that Dan’s just inside and that she can come in and wait if she wants to and he just realizes in time that that isn’t the type of thing to do now. Lacey doesn’t actually want to see Dan. Maybe she didn’t even expect him to answer the door. Expected to leave the box on the doorstep for Dan to find once she’s long gone. 

He swallows. “Okay.” Something screams in his head that this is all his fault. This terrible, awkward, painful interaction could have been fully avoided had he not accidentally stolen her boyfriend. 

The worst part of it is that she isn’t a monster, or a villain, or the one keeping Dan from him. It was Dan, keeping himself from the truth of it. Lacey just so happened to be the most unfortunate casualty in his self discovery. Phil wants to reach out and squeeze her tight, tell her it’s not her fault and that she couldn’t have known, that Dan didn’t even know. But he does actually understand boundaries, and he can tell by the way Lacey shrinks herself back into the opposite wall that that would be the wrong thing to do. 

He nods, giving her a small smile he hopes is apologetic and not smug or ignorant to how uncomfortable this is for her. It's uncomfortable for him too, he wants her to know. 

She nods back, trying to hide a frown, and turns to go. Before Phil can close the door, she turns back and says, “I’m sorry.” So quiet and mumbled that Phil might’ve misheard. She keeps her gaze down at the ground, trying to hide or something. In the little time he's known her, Phil's never seen her quite like this. 

Either way, he shakes his head, “No. I’m sorry. And you’re- you’re brilliant.” 

She laughs dryly, a little harsh too. “I kept coming round, but he was never here and I- I didn’t even know if I wanted him to be, but. Anyway. Thanks.” And then she’s gone, as quickly as she’d come. 

*

The box gets left on Dan’s coffee table. Phil wants desperately to snoop, to analyze and overthink all of the levels of Dan and Lacey’s relationship just by the contents of this breakup box. He harnesses all of the willpower in himself and sits on the sofa and stares at the box for half an hour, before Dan emerges from the shower. 

He stops in his tracks as soon as he spots Phil looking crazy and uneasy where he’s sat. Phil can see his face drop in his peripheral, and sees Dan make a beeline for him, and then stop again once he notices the box. He stays there in the in between of Phil and the coffee table, eyes darting back and forth between them. Phil expects him to speak at some point, but he doesn’t. There’s just silence in the gap of everything, until Phil’s mouth starts before he wants it to. 

“Lacey came by.” It’s much more ominous than he intends for it to be. He’s just not really sure what else he can say. There’s a traffic jam of words in the back of his throat. 

Dan’s face goes completely colorless. “Is that from her?” he croaks. 

Phil nods. 

“Have you… you know.” 

“No. It’s not mine.” 

“You’re the nosiest person in the world.” 

He snorts, a little bitter sounding. “I've sort of convinced myself that there’s a bomb inside.” 

Dan moves and Phil doesn’t look to see where until there’s a weight on the sofa cushion next to him and Dan’s arms wrapped around him like a sloth. “Do I have to look?” 

Phil shrugs. “Guess not. Could just throw it all away. Set it on fire like your supposed heterosexuality. Make it a modern art piece.” 

Dan pushes him away, then pulls back again without letting go. “Shut up.” 

“You could shove it under your bed and pretend it doesn’t exist--” 

“How was she?” 

Phil’s voice catches. He looks down at Dan through his eyelashes. He’s so close he can see those little bumps on his cheeks that don’t show up in photos. Can smell the distinct other person scent of him. “She looked sad. And a little scared. I think I surprised her.” 

“What did she say?” 

“She said she was sorry. I don’t really know what for. I said I was sorry too. I kind of forgot I’m not supposed to like her.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because she’s lovely.” 

“No, why are you supposed to not like her?” 

“Oh.” Dan shifts so his head rests on the top of Phil’s thighs, looking up at him. He's so pretty like this. Hair still wet and curling. “I guess because she’s your ex and I like you a lot and I don’t want her stealing you back.” 

“She’s not gonna--” 

“I know. I really just wanted to invite her inside and make her a cup of tea. She looked like she could use it.” 

“She’s always been the put together one. I’ve never even seen her cry.”

“Really?” 

Dan squints, remembering. “Maybe a few tears here and there. But never full on. She does this thing where her face goes all even. Kind of like a robot. Freaked me out, honestly.” 

“You should talk to her.” 

“I thought you were afraid of her stealing me back?” 

Phil threads his fingers in Dan’s wet hair, pulling the strands apart and dripping water onto the sofa. “No. You’re mine. But she probably could use a friend.” 

*

Phil half expects there to be a drawer in Dan’s dresser full of her things. There isn’t, but there’s a pile in the closet. His room is more organized than Phil’s, but everything is organized in various piles. Piles of sheet music, piles of clean clothes, piles of dirty clothes, piles of important mail, piles of less important mail, etc. Lacey’s pile is shoved in the darkest part of Dan’s closet, where he never had to think about it until now. 

He sits across Dan on the floor, their legs folded under themselves, knees touching. Dan pulls out a jumper that can only be Lacey’s. It’s pastel purple. Dan looks at it for a moment. Then, without a word, folds it carefully and sets it to the side. 

There’s a few books that are bookmarked part of the way through. “She never finishes books, just starts them.” They join the jumper in the new pile out of the closet. 

There’s some kind of metaphor there that Phil actively ignores. 

Next is whole set of pajamas that Dan folds just as carefully as the jumper and a pair of earrings that Phil puts in a plastic bag so they don’t get lost. Phil finds a few folded up pieces of sheet music that Dan doesn’t say anything about and Phil doesn’t ask about either. Dan tosses them on the other pile of sheet music. Something worth keeping for himself, Phil guesses. 

Lacey’s box ends up a lot smaller than Dan’s, which gets shoved in the spot where all of her things used to be. 

“You don’t want to go through it?” Phil asks. “Even on your own?” 

Dan shakes his head. “Not right now.” 

“Later?” 

Dan smiles, tight lipped and secret. He nods, or maybe he doesn’t. It’s a subtle move of his chin, so Phil can barely tell. 

“You know what I do want to do, though?” Dan teases, shoving his hands in the pockets of Phil’s hoodie. They fall to the floor, Dan wrestling Phil around until they’re facing each other, knees slotting together on instinct. 

“What’s that?” 

“I wanna mess around with you in my bed.” 

Phil’s not sure whether he should’ve expected that seeing the mood Dan’s been in today. He's all touchy and warm. It seems weird after just going through Dan’s ex-girlfriend’s belongings. He waits for the other shoe to drop. 

“We’ve gotta christen it or whatever,” Dan explains. 

“It’s not a new bed. Don’t you only christen new beds?” 

“Don’t care. I want you.” Dan shoves his face into Phil’s neck and presses kisses along the line of his throat. Phil tilts his head back, a reflex, and lets Dan have free rein. He’s a sucker for it. He melts here in Dan’s arms and every other time. He’s too warm. Phil's always too cold. Dan touches him and he goes gooey. 

“It’s like,” Phil tries, voice cracking. “A new chapter, huh? Close the shoebox, christen the old bed. Disinfect from the old one.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dan mumbles against Phil’s skin. 

“I don’t know. Just keep going.” 

*

Dan says he’ll drop Lacey’s things off at her place over the weekend. He says he’ll ask if they can have coffee and talk about things. He says he’ll try to be a friend. 

Phil doesn’t really believe him, but that’s fine. Dan says it all out loud and that means he’ll try, or that he’ll want to. 

Phil wakes up wrapped in Dan’s sheets. It’s gone dark outside, but there’s light in the room somewhere Phil can't see. His squinty eyes roam around until he spots the closet door cracked and a human foot sticking out. Either it’s Dan or Dan has literal skeletons in his closet. Too many closet metaphors. 

He pulls the duvet with him out of bed and plops onto the floor next to Dan, kicking the door open more with his foot. 

Dan sits there in just his pants, holding the open shoebox, it’s contents spilled out all around him. 

Dan goes to explain, “I was just gonna get a jumper out from…” 

Phil squeezes his ankle. “Anything good in there?” 

“Hmm,” Dan hums, sleepy and slurred. Then, “I don’t know why she didn’t want to keep the photos.” 

“Maybe she wanted you to have them. She didn’t cross your eyes out, at least.” 

“Yeah.” 

Goosebumps rise all over Dan’s arms and legs. It’s getting colder out and the heat in the building is always too hot or too cold in the fall. Phil wraps Dan into his duvet cocoon and places close-mouthed kisses on his shoulder while he goes through the box. 

“It’s just a lot of memories.” 

Phil nods, nose pressed to Dan’s skin and breathing in. “Sometimes memories are hard. I have the memory of a goldfish.” 

“I think mine might be close to photographic. It’s terrible.” 

“Then you don’t need to keep the photos, if you don’t want to.” 

“I’m sorry it’s like this,” Dan blurts. 

“What?” He turns Dan’s face around to look at him. His eyes have sunk low into the sockets. He doesn't look so different from a skeleton, actually, in this spooky half light. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all this shit.” 

Phil squeezes Dan’s cheeks between his hands. He presses a kiss to his lips. And then to each of his cheeks. One on his forehead and each of his eyebrows. He peppers his whole face with little kisses of reassurance. 

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” he asks. “I’m so hot, I turned you gay. It’s just… part of it.” 

Dan snorts. It’s sadder than usual. He kisses Phil again, letting it linger in the softness. They pull apart and he opens his mouth to say something, shuts it, opens it again, and shakes his head at himself. Phil doesn’t ask. The lines are all too blurry. 

“Would you have come out earlier if you could have?” Dan finally asks. 

Phil breathes out long and loud. He hates this question. “Talking about time travel.” 

“I just feel old.” 

Phil pinches one of his cheeks. “Not old. You’re barely an adult. Don’t even think about it. I love you just like this.” He doesn’t even realize he’s said it. 

Dan makes a choking noise and wipes at his eyes. 

“Oops,” Phil says. He hadn’t even been thinking about saying it. It bubbled up and out of him without any notice or control. “Sorry.” 

Dan sniffs. Phil squints and sees that he’s actually crying now. He pulls Dan's head down into his chest and just holds him there like that. Not even thinking about Dan saying it back. Just wanting him here, wanting him close. 

“I did love her,” Dan slurs. Phil's heart skips a beat, goes all tight and he loses breath for a second. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But I did.” 

“Shhh,” Phil hums. He’s got his fingers in Dan’s hair, brushing and brushing and brushing through the strands until the choking sounds go quiet. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“That’s fine.” It's not a lie, but it doesn't make it any easier to say. He can't make Dan not feel the pain of losing this. Dan has more room in his heart than to only love Phil in his lifetime. It's strange, though, that Phil feels like his heart was made to love only Dan. 

“Does it mean I’m not gay?” It's not what he expects, the line of thinking trailing back to conversations they only ever have in the dark. 

Phil thinks maybe not. He doesn’t know, really. He doesn’t care, doesn't think it matters. “It’s not so black and white like that.” 

Dan sits up, eyes red and face wet from tears. His face is drawn into a quiet calm that Phil doesn’t really believe. His mouth opens again. 

Phil really hopes the love thing hasn’t been the catalyst in all of Dan’s crisscrossed emotions here. He didn’t mean it to be. He doesn’t want Dan to say it back if it’s cause for more stress and confusion. He doesn’t regret saying it. Fuck, he can’t believe he said it. 

It's true, despite that. It's true, it's true, it's true. He's never been this overwhelmed by something that just feels like a fact. 

He almost opens his mouth to apologize, to explain and qualify it with some kind of midnight, post-orgasm slip. 

Dan speaks before he gets the chance. “I think I am, then.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’m gay.” 

Phil smiles. “Okay. Welcome to the club.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


	18. Chapter 18

Phil makes them tea. They sit and drink it in Dan’s bed, his laptop shoved between their legs with an episode of The Office playing. Dan’s pinky links with Phil’s in a silent promise of - so much, Phil can’t even begin to wrap his alien brain around the depth of it - them - them together. 

Phil is so happy here. Despite the mess still hidden behind Dan’s cracked closet door, Phil feels like everything has finally slotted into place. It’s Dan here, his freezing toes pressing against Phil’s bare calf, that makes the whole thing feel worth it. 

He can’t wipe this stupid, gross smile off his face. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re just really pretty.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“You asked.” 

“You don’t need to suck up. I’m already, like, falling all over you.” 

“I’m not!” 

Dan lunges at him. “Fucking - come here!” 

“No!” Phil wiggles away, legs and arms trapped to his sides by Dan’s grip. 

“It’s not fair. You’re too nice to me,” Dan says, pinching wherever he can reach. 

“That’s literally my job. To be so nice to you that you maybe, finally, actually believe it.” He breaks free of Dan and sits up, pinning Dan down to the mattress with one arm stretched above his head. 

Dan surrenders, flopping onto his back and reaching up to trace shapes along Phil’s back. His face goes soft. The smile that was there before disappears and something more serious comes back in its place. Phil can’t read it. It’s too neutral. Dan’s put a wall in Phil’s way. 

“What, love?” Phil asks. He sits back down next to him, giving Dan a few inches of space between them. Phil takes his hand and squeezes, holding it lightly and stroking his thumb over Dan’s palm. 

Dan shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you and… you’re too good. I can’t believe it. I feel like I’m gonna blink one day and you’ll be gone. Like I dreamt you.” 

Phil can’t hold himself back now. “I love you, Dan.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“Why?” All the fear he had before suddenly disappears. Dan’s insecurities almost perfectly mirror his own. It feels like being seen, being heard, being known in a way he never thought was possible before. To the core. 

How can this be his? How can it all be real? 

“Because you make me want to say it back.” Dan says. 

Phil giggles. He reaches for Dan and ends up curled in his lap. He can’t stop clinging to him, just likes being close to him in these private little moments. “Well, why don’t you?” he pushes. 

“I’ve got these commitment issues.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to say it.” 

“I know.” 

“But, I do, you know. Love you.” 

“How can you be sure?” 

Phil tangles his fingers into Dan’s hair, tugging lightly. “I’ve told you before. There’s something about this. You feel made for me. Everything, it’s… perfect.” 

“It’s not perfect, Phil. It’s been a shitshow.” 

“I don’t care. That’s made it perfect, too.” 

“I don’t believe in soulmates.” 

“Then I’ll believe in them for the both of us. Okay?” Phil kisses him, a soft press of lips. 

“Okay,” Dan says once they part. 

“I love you, Danny.” 

Dan smiles, trying to hide it behind the heel of his hand. Phil tries to pry his fingers away from his mouth and Dan pushes back, landing them tangled up and flipped around so that Dan’s leaning over him again. 

“You’re a menace, Phil Lester. And don’t call me Danny.” 

“What would you like to be called then? Babe? Honey? Darling?” 

“Just shut up and kiss me, you fool.” 

“We’re not sixteenth century star-crossed lovers.” 

“You don’t know that. Maybe that’s how we knew each other before. In our past life.” 

Phil grins, entirely too pleased with what Dan’s said. Dan smiles too, entirely too proud. He doesn’t wait another moment. He closes the gap, kissing Phil with even more fervor than before. 

* 

Phil gets the call from his mum a few days later. She says hello with the same tone she’d use when he'd come home too late or leave popcorn kernels between the sofa cushions. He hadn’t even realized how long it’d been since they last spoke. 

“Child.” 

“Mum.” 

“Where have you been?” 

He looks at Dan from across the breakfast bar. He’s pouring them both a cup of coffee and sliding Phil’s cereal bowl across the counter. Still, he can’t think of what to tell her. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“Phil. Since when don’t you tell me things?” 

“Trust me, mum. You’ll hear it all eventually.” 

She makes a sound of disapproval. “Mhmm.”

“Did you call just to interrogate me?” 

“No, love. When are you coming back up to visit us? It’s been too long.” 

He’s rarely gone this long between visits since his dad got sick. There’s some guilt in that. Stuff he’s been ignoring for weeks now, using practiced repression and distraction - which hasn’t been hard to find with Dan constantly around. 

There’s a part to it that’s kept him grounded in everything going up. A roller coaster that’s bound to drop eventually. His heart got all tight when he’d seen his mum’s call pop up on his phone just a minute before. His brain is always going - leaning towards catastrophe. She calls all the time, it’s not out of the ordinary. And yet, it still had him going to the dark places - the places he pretends don’t exist - in the back of his brain. 

“You need me to come up sooner?” 

“No rush. We just miss you, Phil.” He knows she’s smiling by how she says it in that careful, gentle way of hers. It makes me feel like a little kid again, asking about the dark without saying he’s afraid of it. 

Dan looks down at him from where he stands, curious but trying not to pry. Phil gives him a tight lipped smile and shakes his head. He wanders over towards the bedroom, leaving Dan to eat his cereal by himself. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to, mum.” 

“Busy boy, huh?” 

He chuckles. “Something like that.” 

“Phil.” 

“What?” 

“You’re keeping something from me, boy. I know you.” 

He can’t keep himself from smiling, feels himself blush. She’d know immediately if she could see his face. There’s no hiding from this woman. Even from hundreds of miles away. 

“I’m just not sure I’m ready to tell you everything, mum.” 

“I didn’t know it was a question.” 

“It’s not just about me, now.” 

It takes her a second. He’s not sure she’ll get it, until she does. 

“Is it- have you- Oh, Phil.” 

He giggles, forcing the smile back down. He’s back to feeling like a teenager. It’s all too ridiculous to be real. And it’s his mum on the phone that’s making it worse for some reason. He can’t deal with how much he loves her and all of the happiness Dan’s brought him at the same time. He can’t help but think about how much she’d like Dan. 

It’s been an impulse in the past few weeks. To think about how his family would react to Dan. What it would be like to spend Christmas all together at the Isle. He’s taking these steps two at a time, without looking back at where they’ve been or how long it’s taken them. They’re just daydreams for now. 

He loves his family more than anything. He’ll never take them for granted in the way he thinks he did when he was younger. You never quite know how badly you’ve forgotten them until you’re faced with the possibility of losing someone. He’s thought about Dan meeting them. He’s thought about how it’d be different if he didn’t have a dad for Dan to meet. It’s a thought he can’t handle. He pushes it back with all the rest of the made up catastrophes. It’s not real yet, at least. He hopes it never is. 

“It's a boy, isn't it? Phil, love! You’ll tell me about him, won’t you?” his mum asks. She sounds giddy with it, too. 

He swallows another giggle. “Maybe.” 

“Bring him for a visit. I have to meet him. Please?” 

“Mum. I don’t know. It’s new, sort of. I don’t even know if it means anything.” 

“Well, that’s just a lie. You can’t lie to me, you should know better.” 

“Can we talk about this later, please? My coffee is going cold.” 

“Ask him.” 

“What?” 

“Ask him if he wants to come. I’ll bake cakes. It’ll be lovely.” 

“I--” He’s not about to scare Dan off with meeting the parents so soon. Phil’s sort of run away with all of this. He’s afraid Dan won’t catch up if he just keeps going. There’s time and space and growing to be done before they’re on their way to forever. God, forever. “Maybe,” he says, finally. 

She seems generally pleased with the answer and Phil says goodbye before she can get anymore information out of him. He shoves his phone between his pillow and the mattress before heading back to the kitchen. 

Dan’s sat where Phil left him, playing with the dregs of his cereal in the leftover milk. He looks up when Phil sits down. 

“What was that about?” 

“Oh, you know. Mums.” 

“I don’t, actually.” It’s said so quietly that Phil worries he’s missed something. Dan goes on, “I mean, I do. But, it’s not like I talk to her on the phone. That sounds terrible, actually.” 

“My mum and I are kind of close. We talk more than what’s probably normal. I don’t know.” 

Dan smiles. It doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “It’s nice.” 

Phil smiles too. “Yeah.” He hopes Dan would like his mum. It’s a scary thought all of a sudden, what would happen if they didn’t get along. 

“What did she want?” 

Phil looks away from him, gazing at his soggy bowl of shreddies. He fidgets with the spoon. “Not much. Just saying hello.” 

“Phil.” 

“Hm?” 

“Tell me. Please. I want to know all the hot Lester family goss.”

“My grandparents were cousins.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, and my mum asked me to bring you north. To meet them. My parents. Mum and dad.” 

Dan sits, shocked, for a longer moment than Phil thinks is really necessary. The drama queen that he is. 

“You told your mum about me?” 

“Not exactly. She sort of guessed.” 

“You’re that easy, are you?” 

Phil snorts. “Only when it comes to you.” There he goes, barreling ahead like he’s got no control. He feels like Sonic these days. Gotta go fast, fast, fast. 

Are they even technically boyfriends? 

“You’re so sappy,” Dan says, hiding his face in his jumper. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, too deep in it to try and defend himself. 

“Well, are we, then?” 

“What?” 

“Going to visit them up north.” He puts his bowl to his lips and slurps a bit of milk. It’s so gross that it’s almost hot. Phil’s completely gone and he hates himself for it. 

“I said I’d ask you.”

“Okay,” Dan says, wiping at his mouth. 

“Okay?” 

“Sure, ask me.” 

It’s caught him off guard how casual Dan is about it. He thought this would be another three, four, five steps ahead. Dan has commitment issues, he’d said it himself. This feels like commitment, it feels like it means - something. Something they haven’t talked about. Something Phil already feels in his bones. Something he’s desperate not to fuck up. 

“Dan. Do you want to come up north with me and meet my parents?” 

Dan smiles. “Sure, why not.” 

“Are you actually sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

“But--” 

Dan leans over and kisses him, his mouth cold from the milk and tasting like coffee. “Shut up, Phil. If it’s where you’re going, then I want to be with you.” 

It’s easy, like Phil should’ve already known. Dan takes his bowl and empty mug over to the sink to start up some of the washing. The housewife Phil always wanted. 

*

Dan’s mouth is a dream. And as much as Phil actually did want to watch this movie, this is so much better. 

They’ve splayed themselves out on the couch in the least comfortable position possible, but Phil isn’t about to move a muscle. He’s got Dan pinned, shoved up against the armrest and clinging at Phil’s waist. Phil’s legs go, one bent awkwardly against the sofa cushions and the other awkwardly flailed off the edge, heel digging into the floor. Dan seems content, though. More than content based on the noises he keeps making every time Phil bites at his bottom lip. 

There’s a routine to this now. A push and pull that feels like instinct. He’s used to thinking about how he’s kissing, constantly planning his next move and taking stock of how much Dan’s pulling, how much he’s taking. It’s so easy here. His brain is empty, it’s only filled with Dan Dan Dan. 

He wants to climb inside Dan’s mouth. That’s weird. Well, who cares. This is all he needs. 

Dan lifts up, meeting Phil halfway. His thigh goes in between Phil’s legs, shoving itself in place where Phil has no choice but to notice it. There’s too many layers, too much fabric, Phil just needs more skin - more of Dan’s skin. He clumsily pokes his hands up Dan’s shirt, nothing discreet or subtle about it. Dan catches both his wrists before he can start working his shirt up and off. 

“What?” Phil asks, mouth still attached. He breathes in Dan’s breath. He’s always wanted to do that. 

“Not yet.” 

“There’s not enough room here,” Phil says, impatient. 

“We have the whole evening.” 

Phil grunts. It sounds more like a whine than he meant it to. Dan smirks against his lips. 

“Patience, hm?” 

“You fucking started it.” 

Dan giggles. “I really got you going, didn’t I?” 

“What did you think you were doing?” 

Dan kisses Phil, a quick peck that makes a smacking sound when they part. It feels grossly domestic. He pushes himself to sit up, letting Phil slide off his lap. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Phil asks. That insecurity always interrupts the good, sweet moments like this one. There’s no harm in checking, double checking, triple - he feels better once he’s asked. He still feels restless about it, waiting for Dan’s answer. 

“‘Course not,” Dan says, leaning over to kiss the edge of Phil’s jaw. He pulls away before it gets any good, slouching back into the cushions and leaning his forehead back on Phil’s shoulder. 

He’s got the think-y look. Phil knows that look now. He knows it could mean a hundred and one things that only exist to terrorize Dan and sabotage his happiness. He already overthinks more than Phil, which is impressive. He gets himself tangled up in the thoughts and fears and uncertainty. 

Phil hasn’t learned to read his mind yet. He hopes, one day, it won’t be that hard. To look over at Dan and know exactly what’s on his mind just based on the crease between his eyebrows or the blankness of his stare. He’s learned to not be afraid of those looks. The only patience he knows, to wait and listen and see what Dan has to say, if he wants to talk about it at all. He tries, every day, not to let it send him spiraling back into the self doubt and real, terrifying fear that Dan will leave him. 

“It’s not productive,” Dan had said. “It’s irrational. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” 

Phil just barely held back his knee jerk “not yet.” But, Dan’s been right so far. He’s still here. He hasn’t left. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Phil asks, softly. He strokes his fingers through Dan’s curls. He’s obsessed with them, but he thinks - hopes - that Dan likes it just as much as he does. The softness between them is all too unbearable. All he knows is touch, stroke, cling, kiss, rinse and repeat. 

Dan leans into Phil’s touch. Always the puppy. “I don’t think you want to hear about it.” 

“Why not?” He wills his heart not to speed up. Not everything has to do with him, he reminds himself. 

“It’s just me feeling sorry for myself,” Dan says, but he doesn’t seem upset. Just - resigned. He doesn’t give Phil anything that Phil doesn’t ask for. He goes blank - unreadable, protecting himself - just like before. 

“Let’s talk about it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m asking. I want to.” 

Dan shuffles around, lifts his head to look at Phil eye to eye. He’s always challenging him on things like this. Always looking for a lie in what Phil says. Phil loves it. It’s predictable - it’s Dan. He never lets anything go, nothing can just be easy. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever tell my parents about us.” 

It shocks Phil a little bit. Dan never talks about his parents. He avoids the topic at all costs, coming up with excuses and saying as few words as possible to get himself past Phil’s questions. Phil learned a while ago that it was just better not to ask at all. 

“That’s okay,” he says. 

“Is it though?” Dan blurts. “It’s like - a huge secret, right? A part of my life, it feels like, they’ll find out about eventually but. Honestly. That really scares me. Your parents… they were always supportive?” 

Phil swallows. “Er, mostly. There wasn’t a party or anything. I think they just sort of knew.” 

“Yeah. Makes sense.” 

“You don’t know how they’d react?” It’s halfway between a question and a statement. 

“I have an idea. That it wouldn’t be good.” 

Phil squeezes the back of Dan’s neck. “You have to do what’s safest for you, Dan.” 

“No, hey. I’d be fine. I just don’t know if I’d, like, have a family afterwards.” His eyes go soft around the edges, letting Phil in on a part he rarely lets loose for anyone else to see. Phil holds him like he might break. 

“You would. You have me.” 

Dan smiles, red going to his cheeks, but doesn’t mention it. “Aren’t I supposed to, though? Do the thing - come out.”

Phil chuckles. “You don’t have to. They make it a big deal, like the whole thing in the movies where everyone gathers around, but. You’re a grown man, Dan. You can live your life and be out and they can’t stop you.” 

“‘Course they’re not gonna stop me. I don’t know. I thought maybe it’s a part of the initiation.” 

“The initiation?” 

“To be gay.” 

Phil laughs, sweet and trying his best not to make it sound like he’s poking fun. “You’re in a relationship with a man, Dan. That’s plenty gay enough.” 

Dan laughs too, letting go of all the tension and leaning back into Phil. “I could just be tricking you. I could be a really good actor.” 

Phil’s heart catches. “Shut up! You’re literally not.” 

Dan giggles. “You’re right. I’d be terrible as an actor.” 

Phil pokes at Dan’s stomach, trying to find his bellybutton and getting his fingers caught in Dan’s shirt where he traps them under his hand. Phil wiggles his fingers, tickling with no depth perception of where Dan begins and all this fabric ends. They’re a mess, laughing into each other’s hair. Phil wheezes. He’s not fit enough for this. 

Dan looks up at him once they’ve settled back down again with all the same earnestness as before. Still asking, looking to Phil for answers. 

"Just for the record," Dan says, "I do want to tell them about you. I want them to know that I'm happy, I just..." 

Phil doesn't let him finish. “You come out to them when you want to, Dan, not because you feel like you have to. If you lose them, then they’re not worth having in the first place.” 

“And I’ll always have you?” 

Phil lingers on the word, lets it settle in his mouth. A promise, a secret - maybe. A wish. 

He takes Dan’s hand, kisses each of his fingertips, and says, “Always.” 

*

Dan asks him a few glasses of wine and lots of kisses later. Phil’s not sure he’s heard him right at first. 

“Should we just get married, then?” 

He chokes on his wine, holding back the instinct to spew everywhere. “Erm, what?” 

Dan’s settled into the gap between Phil’s legs, leaning his back against Phil’s chest. Something still plays on the tv. Phil sort of thought Dan had been sleeping through most of it. 

“Sort of just makes sense, doesn’t it?” he slurs, sounding floaty and far away with the thought. 

“Dan.” 

“Well, I love you. You love me.” 

Phil’s heart catches, not sure if Dan even knows what he’s saying. “Dan. You’re drunk.” 

“Hmm,” Dan hums. “Just wine drunk. Doesn’t count.” 

“I hate you so much.” 

Dan wiggles around, presses his face into Phil’s neck. “Are you rejecting my proposal?” he mumbles against the skin there. 

Phil struggles to find his breath. “Maybe… er, maybe just postponing it?” 

“Well, that’s not fair.” 

“You really want to marry me? That doesn’t feel too fast?” 

Dan nods, presses his face further into Phil’s skin. “You said it yourself.” 

“What did I say?” he asks, once he realizes Dan isn’t going to elaborate. 

“We’re soulmates, or whatever.” He lays another kiss on Phil’s collarbone, spreads his arms out to pull Phil in tighter, and makes a little grunt of content. 

Phil stares up at the ceiling in the lounge. Too shocked to move or say anything more. It’s all too perfect. He must be dreaming again. He’ll wake up in bed in just a few minutes and it’ll be raining again and Dan will be gone. 

He waits and waits and waits to wake up from the best dream he’s ever had. The night gets later and Dan stays asleep on Phil’s chest. Phil never wakes up. He maybe, finally, actually believes that it's real and right and his.


	19. Chapter 19

_So. Dan kind of proposed._

_WHat????!!!?!??!_

_Sorta?_

_U bastard. Before me?_

_Well not really_

_But sorta_

_….Yeah_

_Did u say yes?_

_I said yes, but not right now_

_It’s not even been that long has it?_

_It’s weird_

_I mean you’re the one who said it … like months ago_

_Said what_

_That he’s it_

*

“Phil!” Dan squeals.

There’s pancake batter all over the floor and the pan is being taken away from Phil, despite his protests that he should be able to try just one more time.

Dan looks over at Bryony. “I blame you entirely.”

She sits at the breakfast bar sipping her coffee and watching the boys work like her own personal chefs. The brunch had been her idea. Phil was hesitant to agree, not sure how Dan and him would adjust to having another person around after weeks of isolating themselves in their perfect little bubble. Bryony pushed, complaining that Dan has taken her place. Phil, well, he couldn’t really disagree. So, they picked a Sunday morning and got a whole bunch of groceries with the idea of cooking more than any of them are really capable of. Fresh fruit, ingredients for homemade pancakes, and enough toppings to cover Phil’s tiny dining table.

It’s been a bit of a disaster, as far as cooking brunch goes. Bryony’s on her second cup of coffee and the pancakes aren’t done yet. Phil’s insisted on flipping them which, so far, has only ended in batter all over the counter and the floor and Dan squealing about the mess.

She sits with her arms folded on the table, smiling at them like a proud mum. Phil gives her a look. She just grins back at him like she doesn’t know.

Dan goes to get a cloth to clean up Phil’s mess, leaving them alone for a moment.

“So,” Phil says.

Bryony grins wider. “So.”

“I mean, like. What do you think?”

“You two are insufferable,” she says, not missing a beat.

“Not what I meant!” Phil giggles, tongue between his teeth.

She shrugs and takes a raspberry from the bowl on the table. It’s only to rile Phil up even more.

“Was that literally not the point of this whole thing? Phil pushes.

Bry holds up her pink fingers for him to see. He tosses her some kitchen roll to wipe them. She takes another sip of her coffee, agonizingly slow. Bolts of electricity jump around in Phil’s stomach.

This is his best friend and his… sort of… boyfriend or fiance… whatever. He needs them to get on. More than before when they were all just friends at a party and Dan wasn’t his. The stakes are high here and he desperately wants Bryony to love his Dan just as much as he does.

“He’s a good egg,” Bryony finally says.”I’m glad you both finally got your acts together. I thought your stupid pining was going to last forever.”

Bryony’s said she takes partial responsibility for their getting together, as the owner of the couch Phil was pouting on during their rocky and uncertain start. Phil just huffs and continues with the pancake making.

“You’re horrible,” he says.

Dan reappears with a couple of towels of all different sizes. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re horrible. But I was talking to the female gremlin sat at the bar.”

“Serve me, waiter! I’ve been waiting an hour!” Bryony shouts, slamming her fist down on the counter.

Dan jumps where he stands and jogs back to his place in the kitchen next to Phil. He’s a little bit of a suck up, Phil’s learned. Desperate to make a good impression on Bryony, even though they’ve already met, this is different. Phil knows it, too. It’s different because they’re together and now it’s Bryony coming over to their space, not just Phil’s.

This is them - together, and out in the world where everyone can see. It’s a big thing for Dan, and Phil feels so good to know that he’s taking those steps for Phil - with Phil.

Phil wonders if Dan ever feels like he’s got something to prove, with the whole fiasco of it before. Like, he will be good to Phil even though the beginning was a bit shit, even though it took a good while before he really came to terms with what was happening inside of him. Phil doesn’t hold it against him - would never, and Dan shouldn’t either.

But Dan’s been smiling this whole morning, flitting about the kitchen, his elbow touching Phil’s as they prep the pancake batter and crack eggs. He jokes with Bryony and inserts himself in their gossip when he has something specifically cheeky to say. He fits in. Phil is so glad, not that he doubted he would. For some reason, Dan just makes sense here too. With him and Bryony on a Sunday morning.

Dan flips the last few pancakes and Phil gets put on egg duty, something he can’t completely ruin. Bryony munches on the fruit and tells Dan all of the embarrassing stories about Phil that he’d been dreading. He scoffs, acting too cool to care, but Dan smiles at him with those warm, brown eyes that melt Phil every time. So maybe it’s endearing. That’s sort of what he’s been going for.

*

“I wanted to give you these before I left, but I didn’t know if you wanted Dan to see,” Bryony says, slipping something into Phil’s hands while they stand at the door.

Dan’s still cleaning up the kitchen, messing with the pans in the sink instead of the dishwasher for some reason completely beyond Phil.

Phil looks down at Bryony’s secret treasure. The plastic wrap crinkles in his grip. Fortune cookies.

“You got Chinese without me?”

“You’ve been busy, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Is this my reminder, then?”

“We still have our traditions, Philly,” Bryony says, swinging her back over her shoulder. “I’m happy for you and all, but you said you wouldn’t forget about me. So don’t.”

“I haven’t. I promise. It’s been… a lot these past few weeks.”

“A good lot?” she asks.

Phil nods. “Good and bad lot. Mostly good. We’re finding our way.”

Bryony smiles, a warning in her eyes. “I’m here, if you need me to kick his ass, you know.”

Phil chuckles. “I know, but don’t worry. You won’t have to. And, well, thank you for the present.”

She shrugs. “I don’t really like them anyway. Gotta add to your collection.”

She leaves in a flash of color and Phil shuts the door with a sigh. It’s always nice to see her, but it’s even better to be alone with Dan again. He’s obsessed, addicted or something. Can’t breathe without him - ridiculous.

Dan had still been a little jumpy with another person around, always keeping just a beat of distance between them. Phil didn’t mind, he knew it would be like this for a little bit. A kneejerk reaction Dan can’t really control. They’d sat at Phil’s little dining table together, and Phil had squeezed Dan’s knee where Bryony couldn’t see. Dan just smiled, teeth and all, and it felt good.

Phil takes the fortune cookies over to a drawer in the kitchen and stashes them there.

“What you got?” Dan says, appearing over his shoulder.

Phil jumps, “Oh! You scared me.”

“You’re very easy to sneak up on.”

“You should wear a bell.”

Dan smirks, “Mm. That a secret kink?”

Phil chuckles. “Shut up. And Bry gave me some fortune cookies.”

Dan opens the drawer wider to reveal the cookies. “Woah. You’ve had a lot of these, huh?” Inside the drawer is all the fortunes Phil’s ever gotten, all spread out so that Dan can read each one.

Phil shrugs. “I don’t like throwing them away.”

“Because they might come true, right?”

It catches him a little, coming from Dan. He knows him too well, Phil guesses. He nods. “Exactly.”

Dan leans, rests his chin on Phil’s shoulder and breathes in. Phil wonders if he’s smelling him, if that’s something they do now. Breathing each other in like a drug. His heart stutters. “Have any of them?” Dan asks.

Phil’s brain barely registers it with Dan so close, wandering somewhere else completely. “They’re, er, all pretty generic. You know. The ‘something good will come to you’ sort.”

“You still read them, though. Don’t you,” Dan says, breath all over Phil’s shoulder.

Phil giggles. “Uh, you are very distracting, you know.”

“I missed you.”

Phil rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around Dan’s biceps where they hold him. “You’ve had me all morning.”

Dan huffs. “Not really.”

“You had fun though, right? You like her?”

“Yeah, I had fun. Bry’s great. But, I wanna go have some more fun.” Dan hums, pressing a kiss to the back of Phil’s neck.

“Why are we still standing here then?”

“You have other ideas?”

Phil giggles, tries to be smooth and fails. “Just follow me, Daniel. I’ll show you.” Phil leads him to the bedroom, Dan pinching and tickling Phil’s sides the whole way.

*

Sometimes just being in this Starbucks feels weird now. There are tables all over the shop that seem like theirs now. He can’t help but notice the computer chords stretched across the floor to the outlets. He can’t help but wonder if someone might meet their person here today. It feels like a magic place, however silly it sounds.

He never wants to go to another Starbucks again. It’s sacred to them now.

He gets his drink and narrowly navigates through the sea of people on their laptops and their bloody charging chords. He smiles at them, despite everything.

On the tube, he plugs in his headphones and turns on the audio file that Dan sent him a few days ago. He’s a bit of a sap, maybe.. Definitely. He feels - so much. Too much to put into words. Dan’s music is another piece of it, tying him together in all the places that felt disconnected. It’s another reassurance, knowing that he’s the only person on this train with this song in his ears. A song for him. By someone who, maybe, loves him like he never thought he could be loved before.

He thinks about how Dan is everything he wanted, everything he thought he couldn’t have. In the same way, Dan is nothing like he thought he’d be and not at all what Phil thought he would get. Everything feels different now, in the way the world moves around him in London and the way his hand opens a door handle into his publisher’s office.

Everything, undoubtedly, means something. It’s slowed down, so that Phil can take it in. One thing after the other. Just in case, at the end of some indeterminate amount of time, it ends up meaning something more than anyone could’ve ever guessed. That’s what Dan’s done for him. It’s all technicolor and music and things that make his heart warm.

It’s disgusting, the whole thing. Jimmy tells him all the time when Phil texts him about the smallest thing Dan can do to make his heart just go. Every piece of it having Phil fall further and further down this wonderful, terrible rabbithole.

He opens up a note in his phone and starts typing, words coming without any control. He loves it when it’s like that. He doesn’t even look up until they’re at his stop, completely immersed in something new.

_To Dan_

*

Then comes fall.

Somewhere in the apartment, Dan’s tapping. It should be annoying, but Phil manages to tune it out. His fingers tapping on the keyboard make a similar sound. His headphones play white noise in his ears. His cursor blinks to the rhythm Dan’s created. Blink.. Stop.. Blink.. Stop.

He stares at it for a second too long, before typing the next sentence.

The day is gray outside, London’s fall bringing clouds that cool the whole city down. The trees outside the flat have gone yellow and dead.

“I love it,” Dan had said.

“They’re dead,” Phil replied.

“No, they’re just… changing. And then they get to come alive again after winter’s over. A good hibernation. I want to be a tree,” he said, a bit dreamy.

Phil stares out through the gap in the blinds. There’s no birds out now, having gone somewhere warmer. If that’s how these birds work, Phil wouldn’t know.

The day has been quiet. Inside in the warmth and comfort of Phil’s flat - their flat. The clouds outside - not the storm kind - but the kind that make everything soft that day, desaturated so that it’s all curved edges and feeling like a dream.

Or maybe it’s just a good day. Dan is here and there are clouds in the sky, and it’s a good day. A rare thing, but a thing Phil’s come to know and not take for granted.

His cursor blinks again. A few times in the same space. Phil shifts, enters a new line, and types two words.

The tapping’s stopped at some point while Phil had been daydreaming out the window. There’s music from the other room. Dan had brought his keyboard down weeks ago so that he could work in Phil’s flat. Jimmy says it’s a bit ridiculous that they haven’t just combined flats already, but Phil likes it this way. Their way. And eventually, they’ll adjust and make big steps and changes towards the rest of their lives. But, for the first time in a long time, Phil really isn’t worried about the future. He isn’t worried about where he’ll be or what he’ll be doing or who he’ll be with.

They’re taking it day by day, step by step. Phil likes it this way.

*

“Get a lot of work done today?” Dan asks, taking the takeaway trash into the kitchen.

Phil leans against the couch, throwing his feet up on the spot where Dan had been sitting. “Mhmm.”

“So.. when can I read it?” Dan asks, lifting up Phil’s feet and flopping back into his spot. Phil puts his feet back on his lap once he’s there. Dan holds them both with one stupid, big hand, fingers pressing into the soles.

Dan asks every few days if he can read what Phil’s made, complains that Phil gets to hear him play everyday and that it isn’t fair. Phil shakes his head, says he can read it when it’s finished. That there’s nothing to get out of reading it while it’s still a work in progress. It’s mostly true.

Phil hums, playing it up a little. “I guess whenever you want.”

Dan’s fingers go still where they lay at the edge of Phil’s sock, playing with the hem of his sweatpants. It takes just a second. “You said I could read it when it’s done.”

Phil nods, not revealing anything. Revealing everything, really.

Dan jumps up and scoots forward to take Phil’s shoulders in his hands, shaking him a bit. “Phil!”

“What?” Phil laughs.

“Did you finish your fucking book?” Dan shakes him again, wide eyes and fully overreacting.

Phil smiles wide. “Maybe the first draft.”

“And I can read it!” Not even a question.

Dan leaps to his feet and dashes across the apartment to grab Phil’s laptop, opening it on the coffee table and typing in Phil’s password from memory.

“Okay, okay, but it’s just a first draft,” Phil qualifies. “Or a first and a half? Can you have a first and a half? And it’s probably not going to stay this way. Like, I might even just adapt it… I don’t know yet. Please don’t think that - I just need you to know before --”

Dan leans up and smacks a kiss on Phil’s lips, shutting him up.

“Well, you didn’t have to do that,” Phil pouts.

“Just shut up and let me read it. I’m going to love it, even if it’s terrible,” Dan says, tracing Phil’s jaw with his thumb.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Uh uh! You’re shutting up now. Is it this one?” Dan clicks at the document hidden in the corner of Phil’s desktop.

It opens up to the first page, an untitled title page and by line. Dan scrolls down. Phil feels his stomach twist as the dedication appears on the next page.

Dan reads it carefully, chest barely moving and eyes flitting across the screen. He stares at it for a long time.

_To Dan, the wish that came true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, the end :) 
> 
> thanks for reading! catch me on my mess of a blog @graydar on tumblr


End file.
